If somebody TPed your house – it wasn’t me! If somebody in a gorilla mask, jumped out and growled when you got back to the office after COVID shutdown – it wasn’t me! It was some other…
a person who is fond of joking a foolish or inept person. especially: an insignificant, obnoxious, or incompetent person
I have long been a fan of the psychological value of humor and comedy. It can calm the mind, and cause endorphins to be released into the bloodstream that make people feel good. I don’t like to be called a Joker, like the Steve Miller Band song.
I’m a Joker I’m a smoker I’m a midnight toker
I gave that shit up a long time ago. I have enough trouble keeping my mind running smoothly. I don’t need any chemical enhancement.
I also don’t like the Jokester label. Like “Joker,” it carries too much hint of smart-ass pranks and practical jokes, which are only funny to the bullies who play them on innocent victims.
I much prefer to accept the label of Gagster, from the Lonnie Donegan song, Lively. (Oh what a gagster!) a person who writes comic material for public performers. a comedian who uses a patter of jokes and funny remarks.
So, you can rest assured that I am serious about being funny and looking after your mental and physical health, by posting lots of jokes. The next batch will be hot off the griddle next Monday. 😆
Another heaping helping of OCD??
No thanx! I’ve got enough already.
The first 15 blogs that I posted, I typed directly into WordPress, and published immediately, subject to random fits of creativity.
THEN I GOT SMART!
I found out about opening a Word file, composing whenever the Muse and I had a one-night-stand, and posting on an established schedule. Soon I had a dozen posts ‘in the bank,’ ready to go as needed. Over several years, that number continued to climb – first to 15 – then 20.
I take this blogging thing as seriously as I used to regard any of my jobs. It is a self-imposed penance. Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been nine days since I have written a word. Say five Hail Marys my son, and create three amusing posts. (Just not about The Church, my son. His Holiness has heard about you, and has sent me an email.) 😈
I can’t be trusted to produce a steady output. Whenever I have a flash of genius, or just steal a post-theme from another blogger, I bank it in my ‘Blog Notes’ file. I schedule to publish three posts a week. I would write three in a day, or five in three days – then not produce a thing for a week. Once I banked thirteen posts in eight days, and produced nothing more for over two weeks.
Of course, four of those were comedy posts. I trawl for acceptable jokes, and drop them into the same file. Control-C/Control-V them into their own posts, and I can build four of them at a time, in an hour. Slowly but surely, the bank gained interest. Soon I was up to 25…. and then 30 waiting posts. Add a few – publish a few – I only worried when the total fell below 20.
Finally, I reached 35 in the bank, and then, a particularly productive week came upon me. Even with publishing three, the sediment deposit piled up to 39 – and I was so proud of myself. A tour through blog-post land quickly let the hot air out of my balloon.
One female’s blog-theme was, “Am I The Only One With 57 Unpublished Posts In A Word File??!” 57?? Who does she think she is – Heinz? It only got worse from there. One reader stated that she had 113. Another lady claimed that she had 125.
I need someone to squeeze my head like a lemon rind, to get a few more drops of snark out of me, and onto the page. The online conversation continued, and finally, my heart palpitations calmed down. Not one of them had that many unpublished “posts.” What every one of them had was – an idea here, a theme there, an interesting concept, an opening sentence, a paragraph or two of prose.
The best thing about my posts is – They’re finished. Interesting or boring, educational or mind-numbingly banal, peaceable or confrontational – they’re done – ready to publish. There were 41 titles on my unpublished list, but this was one of three that weren’t actually complete yet, so I’m still only at 39. If I can just get those other two completed by Friday, I’ll set a new personal best record. How about you?? Do you bank posts?
Between the time this post was originally composed – and now, I accepted the 2022 BEDA Challenge – Blog Every Day in April. Besides my regularly scheduled 13 posts, I will need another 17. I have composed a warning post, to be published in late-March, and nine of the seventeen others.
With COVID closing the Canada/US border, Erato, my Muse, has not been able to get to Daytona Beach to take part in Girls Gone Wild videos. She’s been snuggling up to me, and whispering in my ear more than usual. My unpublished list has reached 55 twice, and now hovers nearer to 50, than 40. 😀 😎
It was the dark of the moon on the 6th of June, in a Kenworth, haulin’ logs.
Actually, it wasn’t. I only put that in because I just watched a YouTube video of C.W.McCall doing that old CB truckers’ song, Convoy.
It was dark and early Monday morning, two weeks ago. The sun had not begun to complain about having to rise, to start another work-week for those lucky enough to still have jobs. I had just published a ‘21 A To Z Challenge post for the letter C.
Remember, you need another post for D in two weeks, and you don’t have anything started. You have a
Deadline, schmedline…. That’s 14 days away. I’ll come up with something. Tuesday passed in a glorious flash of a Netflix movie and a bowl of popcorn, with a couple of books for a chaser. Wednesday, I published a post with some words about words. Deadline threw me a withering glance, like a woman scorned. You do remember I’m here, don’t you?? You never do anything with me anymore!
I just had a look at Rochelle’s 100-word picture prompt. I can’t do a thing with it. I’ll have to figure something to post on Friday. We’ll go dancing tomorrow, okay?
Thursday slipped into Friday, as I readied and published a back-patting, self-congratulatory post about reviewing another blogger’s book. I basked in the glow of admiration from thousandshundreds maybe 10 or 12 viewers, while Deadline paced back and forth, muttering about suing for alienation of affection.
THERE’S ALWAYS THE WEEKEND…. With 11 years of practice at being retired, the only way I even knew it was late-Sunday/early-Monday again, was that neighbors put out garbage. I put ours out, and then published a comedy post. Deadline built a voodoo doll, and was reading a book of incantations.
You know that there’s only one week left, right? Get off your ass, and get on the keyboard.
That was the last pre-fabricated comedy post I had in reserve. I’ll assemble 4 more from my Blog Notes stash of jokes tomorrow; then I’ll get right at that D post.
Tuesday – I had an inspiration, and started writing a post about polarization in American politics and religion.
Deadline – tick, tick, tick!!
Wednesday – I published a post with more words, about more words, and started another one to replace it. Deadline – Can Archon come out and play?
I’m sorry. He’s had one COVID shot, but apparently he’s suffering a bad case of procrastination. I smacked him with a calendar, but he just sits there, looking even more stunned than usual. Maybe tomorrow.
BANG, BANG BANG!! Open up right now! This is Deadline, and I have a warrant to search for any sign of a theme, or creative writing. Thursday already??! Why the Hell didn’t somebody tell me that I need a post ready by Sunday night? None of the D words in my file seem appetizing. I guess I’ll have to do another of those, “If you can’t fix it – Feature it” posts. I could do one about meeting a deadline.
Deadline – Bless you my son. Say five Robert Heinleins, and have a bottle of sacramental wine while you compose. You’re still a lazy ass – just not all the time. 😉 😳
….But I can stretch it over Toronto’s CN Tower. Here’s a chance for you to do the same. Take the following list of questions, and provide interesting, entertaining and informative answers which might have people questioning your sanity, as well as your veracity.
What is the difference between a gooseberry and a grape?
A gooseberry is like a grape, but with a bad case of mold. Cannibals won’t eat clowns because they taste funny, but if you swallow a gooseberry whole, it will tickle your palate all the way to the bottom.
What is meant by skid row?
That’s what happens when I don’t change my underwear every day. One little brown stain in my BVDs, on laundry day, is forgivable, but when there’s a whole line of them, the wife says that I am going to involuntarily take that ‘Eat A Tide Pod Challenge.’
Why do elephants have big ears?
The better to hear you with, my dear Red Riding Hood. I am the elephant in the room. You should just put down the basket of bananas that you brought, and leave quickly, before you get stepped on. Don’t worry about making it back home safely, through the deep, dark woods. There was a pervert, transvestite wolf here when I arrived, all dressed up in one of Granny’s nighties, but I didn’t see him, and accidently sat on him. FYI: Granny’s gonna need a new bed too. Sorry!
What is green and travels at thousands of miles an hour?
The Canadian Federal Liberal eco-energy plan. Cover up five acres of soya-beans with ugly solar panels. Generate electricity at 12.3¢/Kwh. Sell it to the Americans for 3.8¢/Kwh. Put huge, ugly wind turbines in dairy pastures. Reduce milk production and farmers’ income by 20%. Generate electricity at 11.7¢/Kwh. Sell it to the Americans for 3.8¢/Kwh. Continue until the country is bankrupt, or the infrastructure has collapsed.
What is the difference between minimum and maximum?
I thought a mini-mum was a young, sexy female parent, with a high hem, and a maxi-mum was an older, more sedate one. The difference between minimum and maximum is actually a very fine line that either of them might cross on a 4-hour drive to a vacation campsite, with two young kids in the backseat. Are we there yet? I gotta wee! How long have we been driving? Bobby’s lookin’ at me! I gotta go poo-poo! Billy shoved me! Do cows have batteries? I went poo-poo in my pants. You don’t mind if I practice my soccer kick on your seat, do-ya? Drive faster honey. Risk a speeding ticket! If we’re not there in five minutes, I’m gonna bury one or both of them behind a big cedar tree.
What is a pantry?
It’s not spelled right, but this is a pan-tree – with a cooking utensil hanging from every branch.
What is a carnivore?
I am a carnivore, whenever the carnival comes to town. The rides are fun, but I head straight for the food lane – hot-dogs, hamburgers, French fries, caramel corn – are all okay, but they have Deep-Fried everything – corn dogs, cheese, ice cream, Mars bars. I walked past one booth, and the sign just said ‘FRIED’. I asked the guy, “Fried what?” “Nothing,” Just a big catcher’s mitt of fried dough, like John Pinette’s beavertails. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6y0GhNFcY6k I had two, with cinnamon and powdered sugar coating, and some Maple syrup.
What is another word for oriental?
I officially admit defeat! I can’t think of a serious, or humorous, way to define “Oriental” in a single word. I am just waiting to see what other people do with the prompt. I could do a bit about Orientals’ North American driving looking like they learned to pilot vehicles with rickshaws in Tokyo, or tuk-tuks in Indonesia.
I could riff on their hive-mind, and the likelihood of them ignoring American social patterns to get a great education, and a 6- or 7-figure job, but I don’t want to be counter-cultured, or even doxxed, by a squad of #YellowLivesMatter ninjas.
What is the difference between pussy willow and catkins?
This is FHRITPGrab Her By The Pussy-willow Trump,
and these are my cat-kins.
What is a felony?
I’m not sure, but if a person who commits burglary is a burglar, and a person who commits a felony is a felon, then God is an iron. It is a great irony that, as God has created us, everything that we like, enjoy, desire, strive for – is bad for us. W.C.Fields said that everything he liked was illegal, immoral or fattening. Salt, that makes things taste good? – causes heart problems. Sugar, in candies and yummy do-nuts – rots teeth and causes obesity. Smoking ruins lungs.
Alcohol ruins marriages, friendships, and livers. Drugs…. Don’t get me started! I can barely handle reality. I don’t know why anyone would want to do drugs. Sex – causes abortions, STDs, bar fights, battered wives and divorces, but we keep striving for them all. Is resisting temptation supposed to be good for us??! Why couldn’t He just create us, already loving broccoli, liver, and Disney movies?
malaphor – Is also called an idiom blend. Most of us have heard one or two. Many of us have created one. It happens when the mind is so busy putting together a sentence that we mash together two idioms, to produce an amusing-sounding result.
Recently, a lady blogger said, “I’m slipping on my words.” This is a mixture of, slip of the tongue and tripping over one’s words. The cube-drone who invented, “trial by error,” was having trouble justifying his project’s expenses, and combined his two trials, trial and error, and trial by fire.
The guy who was angry at a tRump apologist showed restraint, but invented, “biting my teeth” by melding biting my tongue, and baring my teeth (in anger). Biting your teeth is as hard as biting the back of your neck, or biting your elbow – although, a recent online poll asked if I could lick my elbow – which makes me suspect that some Ubangis can do it.
An advertising executive said that he had to “pull the bullet”, because he was forced to bite the bullet and pull some strings, to get assistance from senior management. ….Speaking of pulling some strings – a television comedian told an interviewer that he had “pulled out all the strings” on his recent special, mixing the pulling strings (to get the best production,) and pulling out all the stops on an old organ, to get the grandest performance from it.
I’m usually only confused with one thing at a time. Have you created or heard some other malaphors?? 😕
My wife was recently hospitalized from an overdose of
conformity to established standards of good or proper behavior or manners.
appropriateness to the purpose or circumstances; suitability.
rightness or justness.
Note that the above definition does not contain the word “Community” standards, although that is usually assumed. Her problem was that she felt that she was the one to establish the standards, regardless of reality, or anyone else’s opinion. What she thought was proper – was proper.
The son located a ‘Sarcastic’ image like the above, online, and downloaded it as the wallpaper on his cell phone screen. In an orgy of irony, he rotated it 90 degrees, and installed it sideways. The next morning, she told him that his phone had beeped because of an update, and she noticed that the image was ‘wrong,’ so she ‘corrected’ it for him.
I bought a little 19 ounce can of tomato juice – just enough for three small glasses. Because they settle, sitting on store shelves, I inverted it, shook it, and poured a glass. I was going to put the balance in a jar with a lid, but thought, “It’s only going to be another two days”, and tucked it on the top refrigerator shelf. The next day I noticed dried-on drops on lower shelves, and thought the son might have nudged it. When I asked him, a voice came from the living room, “Well, silly me. I didn’t know that it was open, and it was upside down….”
Generally, men are less refined, and more basic than women, especially about bodily functions. A comedienne once declared that, ”Women don’t sweat, and we don’t fart. Hell, if we didn’t bitch, we’d explode.”
If you have to suddenly fart where there are other people, you apologize for the unwelcome smell. (I’ve been arguing with a repeated crossword clue that says that ‘odor’ is a foul smell – it’s a smell. A dictionary check shows definition number 2 is ‘foul smell.’ Definition number 3 says ‘pleasant smell’.) 😕 If you get a little warning, you move away from other folks, and do it in private.
One day, while I was still toiling in the salt mines, I joyously leapt out of bed early one morning, and headed for the bathroom. Once there I reduced internal pressure by releasing a toxic cloud that had the cat’s eyes watering. I ripped about four yards of sailcloth – FFFffphaatt.
Suddenly, from the bedroom, 25 feet, a hallway and another room away, I heard, “ARCHON!”
“You could apologize for that.”
“There’s no-one here to smell it. Who should I apologize to?”
“Well, at least you could go somewhere else to do that.”
“I’m in the bathroom. Just me and the exhaust fan. Where else would you suggest I go?”
Now she’s angry. If/when you fart, there are two things you can do – at least one of those two things that you must do – and I’ve just demonstrated that neither of them apply.
“Oh sure, some of your Archon logic.” – as if I can somehow twist the Universe into any shape I want, like some balloon animal. Two plus two always equals four – but then, so does three plus one, nine minus five, and the square root of sixteen.
It would be logical for you to pop back again in a couple of days. I promise no stench – maybe some bread baking. 😀
I was right! Somebody slipped something to me. I’m lucky it wasn’t a roofie at a bar. It took two of them, ganging up, to do it. Julius Caesar, aided and abetted by Pope Gregory XIII in 1582, reformed and refined the calendar commonly used today.
My publishing schedule is simple. There are 52 weeks in a year. There are 26 letters in the alphabet. Publish every two weeks – 26 x 2 = 52. It all comes out even, except….
52 weeks times 7 days, is only 364 days, and the year has 365. Each year starts a day later than the previous one – except that Leap Years add 2 days. In the 6 years that I’ve been doing the Challenge, I’ve gained 8 days – more than a week. It was either start doing a March Challenge, or add an excuse, an extra 2 week cushion, and an ad lib post.
Caesar and Il Papa lawyered up with a smart Jewish attorney. He told me to shift the blame to my old friend, the Ampersand. It was his fault that there was Plus a day or two each year. Old Amp is a bit archaic, and somewhat out of style these days. I felt some regret at betraying him, but it’s every blogger for himself these days.
I guess I’m actually lucky to have survived this past year. I’ll have to try harder in the coming months. 😀
For those of you who thought that I might publish an extra comedy post…. the joke’s on you. 😉 😆
The management regrets that the regularly scheduled blogpost is not available at this time, because of non-production problems. A nap stretched into a coma, and my Muse was not amused.
Any of you who came here expecting humor, wit, interesting trivia, or even another numb-minded and mind-numbing rant, please click on the link another day. All of the aforementioned, and even more, will be provided. 😀
Normal programming will resume on Monday, Jan. 27/20, with a cascade of comedy. Anyone who wishes to do so may stop at the box office on the way out, and a full refund will be issued.
Oh, to be able to eat like a teen-ager again: to put away food like we were eating Mom and Dad out of house and home: when my hyper-kinetic lifestyle and metabolism shed calories and pounds like Donald Trump going through White House advisors.
Once upon a time, the majority of people worked for a living. Nowadays, in the First World, the hardest work most of us do is tap a keyboard, whether in an office, or while watching a robot or automated machine do the heavy lifting. Weight loss/control has become an expanding business.
In the auto-parts plant, I moved 9 tons (almost 18,000 pounds) of material per day, by hand, and ate like it. A couple of hundred years ago, that would have been considered the opening act. Those guys needed FOOD to fuel their work. Ladies and Gentlemen, I give you
Not a superhero who lays pipe or cable, but,
a person who has a hearty appetite; a heavy eater.
a person who enjoys food; hearty eater
Origin of trencher
1275–1325; Middle English trenchour something to cut with or on: Anglo-French; Middle French
New French – trancher – board or plank
a rectangular or circular flat piece of wood on which meat, or other food, is served or carved.
He left us too soon, partly because of his trencherman actions, but funny-man John Pinette has an amusing YouTube clip, entitled Around The World In 80 Buffets. Drop back in a couple of days. Not too early though, I’ll be over at Shoney’s for their Early Bird Special. 😉
Marketers/advertisers are experts at using images and words which make you believe that their products have qualities and abilities that they really don’t. Becel is a well-known brand of margarine. An Ontario food chain has named their house brand, Celeb, an inspired, but possibly illegal, turn of phrase.
They originally packed and sold it in yellow and white containers, virtually indistinguishable from the Becel, but when I went to download a photo, all I can find is the Blue, President’s Choice packaging. I suspect a restraining order.
Already the owner of a Keurig coffee-maker, the wife was convinced to buy a Nespresso coffee-maker. The model name is Vertuo. I believe that the name is supposed to make you think of ‘virtue’ – goodness, righteousness, excellence, admirable quality – for the machine, and perhaps ‘virtuous’ for the buyer – possessing the above qualities.
It also suggests ‘virtuoso’ – a person who has special knowledge or skill in a field. It even piggybacks on the Save The Planet/Eco movement, ‘vert/verde’ – meaning green. When I looked up the translation meaning of this Spanish word, I found that it means ‘spill.’ They’ve called their coffee-making machine a spill. 😆
IGNORANCE IS NOT BLISS
These are two excerpts from local marriage counselors who deal with Mennonites. They are greatly concerned with that ‘Go forth and multiply’ thing. These young folks were having trouble.
Now, talking to anyone, especially shy, withdrawn Mennonites, about the mechanics of sex, can be daunting. The first counselor finally elicited a detailed account. The young husband achieved an erection, and inserted it into his wife…. and left it there, until it went flaccid.
The counselor suggested that he withdraw it, and re-insert it, forcefully, rapidly, a number of times. At their next monthly counseling session, both of them offered profuse thanks.
Suspecting sterility, the second counselor went directly to having the husband go to a clinic to provide a semen sample. He came out of the washroom with the sample vial full of a yellow liquid. 😳 He had been urinating inside his wife, thinking that that was how to impregnate her.
Our writing is never finished, only temporarily abandoned. We write, because one life is not enough for us.
Mighty Carlin Has Struck Out
I recently won another argument with George Carlin. It wasn’t hard. He’s been dead for a couple of years. He liked to riff on English usage, and the Catholic Church. The two topics came together when he wanted to talk about priests taking a vow of celibacy. “No they don’t!” he insisted, “Celibacy only means that you’re not married. They take a vow of chastity.”
No they don’t!! I don’t know how the ex-Catholic thought that the Church had got it wrong all these years. They don’t care if a priest screws everything in the parish, including the goat. That’s all covered by the Ten Commandments, and can be fixed with a quick confession. The Hierarchy is only concerned that there are no legal heirs left behind who might have a claim on any estate, which they feel belongs to them. Archon – 2
Carlin – 0