And The Truth Was Not In Him

I CANNOT TELL A LIE

….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 FHRITP Grab 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?

WOW #64

I recently ran into a neologism.  😯  A little Bondo http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bondo_(putty) and some spray paint, and all was well.

I’m talking about

MALAPHOR

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??  😕

WOW #56

Propriety

My wife was recently hospitalized from an overdose of

PROPRIETY

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.

Photo0036

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!”

“What dear?”

“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. 😀

’19 A To Z Challenge – &*%$#

AtoZ2019

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.

Ampersand
Once the 27th letter of the alphabet
Click here for more info https://www.dictionary.com/e/ampersand/

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.

Survivor

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.  😉  😆

 

Error 404

Error 404

It was cute the first time.  This is just pathetic.  😛

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.

Confused Emoji

’19 A To Z Challenge – T

Eating Contest

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

TRENCHERMAN

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.

The heavy-eating manual laborers who could be described as trenchermen needed something for their food to be served on/in. They could hardly take fine china to their worksite, or even rude pottery. It was often too likely to be broken or lost, and Tupperware© and Rubbermaid© hadn’t been invented yet.

These rough-and-ready laborers got their meals served on rough-and-ready platters, chunks of lumber that didn’t go into the buildings that they were erecting – slivers and splinters just added needed fiber. The nearest modern equivalent is the cardboard pizza box. Although I’d like to, I can’t eat an entire pizza any more – even a small one. Fortunately, Ziploc© has invented plastic bags, in which to save the leftovers for another day.

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.   😉

Smitty’s Loose Change #11

Smitty's Loose Change

Mad Men

BecelCeleb

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.

Vertuo

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

Mennonite

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

 

WOW #49

Dandle

I’ve got another old-fashion-y word, as this week’s Word Of the Week. It’s

DANDLE

verb (used with object), dan·dled, dan·dling.

to move (a baby, child, etc.) lightly up and down, as on one’s knee or in one’s arms.

to pet; pamper.

Isn’t that a lovely old word, as warm and nutritious as Scottish oatmeal; as enfolding and supportive as a flannelette blanket? It’s not officially extinct, but it went on the endangered species list in the 60s or 70s.

Nobody dandles babies anymore! There’s no time! Instead, fit, young, Spanx-clad, Bluetooth-sprouting mothers race past, with bewildered, wind-burned children in $4000 Kevlar and Carbon-Fiber walkers, on their way to enrol the kid in pre-pre-pre-kindergarten, or snaffle the last spot in some preppy Day-Care.

I believe that I may have found a preventive for, at least some of, the multiple-killing gun violence. Perhaps if Mom (Or grandma – she remembers how) dandled her child more, he would be more likely to grow up to return love for love, instead of being estranged from society.

Please note that the word is dandle, not diddle. 😯 The Catholic Church seems to finally be getting the word, and that pedophile, Epstein has taken himself out of the game.

Stop back in a couple of days for some more comedy, and the beginning of my (hopefully) final dash for the 200th Flash Fiction milestone.

’18 A To Z Challenge – Y

Letter Y

I was desperately pondering what word, beginning with the letter Y, to write about. I had yesteryear, yonder, yardstick, and yield, any one of which may still show up this time next year. I thought about Yule, but it’s long past. The Easter Bunny is already hopping over Santa’s sleigh tracks. I told all my yolks, when I published my E For Eggs post, a couple of years ago.

Suddenly it came to me! I should write a post about

You

Crowd

A few of my fans, awed by the magnificence of my prose.

Yes, you, my regular readers, and faithful fans – who have been with me and my blogging, through thick and thin…. Who am I kidding??! When, during the time that I have been blogging, have I ever been thin? It’s been more like thick, and thicker. I’m a little like comedian Gabriel Iglesias – so well-fed that I’m somewhere between FLUFFY and DAMN!

Fortunately for you (and me), my writings benefit greatly from considerable editing. If it were not for the miracles of the word-processing program, the prose that my over-fed, sausage-like fingers (Mmmm – sausages!) typo out, would look like my Back Up A Sec post.

My readers and online guests are important to me all the time after a meal that would have Santa Claus leading a Weight-Watchers intervention raid, but you’re here now, reading my output, and giving me a warm happy feeling – just like a large serving of French fries and gravy.

Since it’s Lent – even though I’m not a Catholic – I hereby vow to give up excessive calorie intake for 40…. minutes. I promise to be back in a couple of days, with a post that’s sleek and svelte, even if I’m not. Thank you, to the visitors who have come here before, and thank you to the ones who will gratify me by continuing to show up later. 😀

 

That’s Not (Precisely) Funny

German Shepherd

Gerry Seinfeld is rolling over in his grave – or, he would be, if he were dead, and if he reads this, he might be.

There are times when comedy, or other facets of life, depend on precision.   Jerry was/is a precisionist.  He replaced a generic ‘dog’, with a ‘German Shepherd,’ in a joke about a blind skydiver, and killed.  He and a friend argued for an hour, about whether to use ‘a’ or ‘the’ in a joke.

Just as often though, it is necessary for the joke-teller to rely on the listener’s imagination.  Sometimes, precision can kill the humor.

Recently, while plagiarizing researching jokes for my comedy posts, I ran into the old classic about a couple making out in a car.  When the male asks the female if she’d like to get into the back seat, the Blonde wails that she’d rather stay in the front with him.

Ditzy Blonde

The Blonde lady who posted it, took the time and trouble to rewrite it, and place the amorous couple in a CORVETTE.  Ever the pedantic buzzkill, I reminded her that unlike the sports car Thunderbird, which morphed into a gigantic land-yacht, Corvettes never had a back seat.

I got back a grumpy (and I’m an expert on grumpy), “Well, maybe it was a BWM then.”  Maybe it was, but why did you feel the need to be specific – and wrong?  Why not just use the generic ‘car,’ the way every other joke-teller does, and let the readers’ imaginations supply their own.  I could imagine a 1928 Essex, because a man in my home-town turned one into a French fry wagon.

Today’s rant about Nothing, is brought to you because I couldn’t imagine a theme for last week’s 100-word Flash Fiction, I didn’t have a WOW composed and ready, and I published a comedy post out of sequence.

I’d like to blame exposure to Donald Trump, during our week-long visit to DC.  Our Osteopath claims that our trip was a success.  Trump was quiet all the time that we were there, but that was because he was too busy playing golf in Florida.  My digestion and my blog-site are all regular again.  Please stop back soon, so that I can prove it….  the blogging – not the digestion.  Ew, Ew, Ew.  😯