A Scrabble For One-Liners

I accidentally swallowed a bunch of Scrabble tiles….
….My next trip to the bathroom could spell disaster.

This is the first time I don’t go to Fiji due to the pandemic….
….I normally don’t go because I’m broke as fuck.

My friend drowned himself in a vat of varnish….
….He had a horrible end…. but a nice finish.

If we were on a sinking ship, and there was only one life-vest….
….I would miss you a lot.

You should not call someone a cannibal….
….Refer to them as Humanitarians.

I can’t believe I forgot to go to the gym today….
….That makes seven years in a row.

I told my wife that I have the body of a Greek god….
….She explained that Buddha is not Greek.

I donated my body to Science….
….Science donated my body to Goodwill

Is it irony when you pray to God to remove “your family’s problem”….
….And the next day, you’re in Heaven?

We wanted to be adults, so badly….
….Just f**king look at us now.

Constipated people are not trustworthy….
….They are full of shit.

I was invited to a party, and told to dress to kill….
….Apparently a turban, a beard and a backpack weren’t what they meant.

To err is human….
….To forgive is against company policy.

Why doesn’t room 404 exist?….
….There’s no room for error.

What is a fear of chainsaws called?….
….Common sense

I saw an ad in the paper, “Yacht for sale.”….
….As if people don’t know what a yacht is for.

It doesn’t matter if you’re tall, short, fat, thin, young, old, at the end of the day….
….It’s night.

One useless man is a shame….
….Two is a law firm.

I moved into an igloo, and my friends threw me a house-warming party….
….Now I’m homeless.

My mother told me I could be anyone I wanted….
….Turns out identity theft is illegal.

I needed to set a new password….
….I tried putting in ‘penis,’ but it told me it was too short.

I asked my wife what she was ‘burning for dinner.’….
….Turns out it was all my personal belongings.

My wife claims that I’m cheap….
….But I’m not buying it

 

Why The Case For God Matters

I thought “The Case For God” might be Coors Light, but what do I know?

“The best way to find out the purpose of a widget, is to ask the manufacturer.” So simple and yet so profound.

I have asked the manufacturer, many times, what the purpose of the widget is. I have received no answer from the top. I have received innumerable unbelievable claims from His many and varied sales reps, who stand to make a 10% commission.

Manufacturer: Please read the manual before inquiring. Remember…all claims are unbelievable when you don’t believe them. Most of our sales reps work for free while some do make a 10% “commission” to cover overhead costs…but since you didn’t spend a dime on anything, this is of no concern to you. As the manufacturer, so far you’ve only inquired many times and harassed the sales reps. Problems in many areas cannot be addressed if you refuse to take the necessary steps already directed by the manufacturer. Basically….it’s your fault. When you’re ready to put into action the things already directed by the sales reps….we can move forward with your request. Thank you and have a nice day!

With the best of intentions, you just don’t see the problem.  I have read the manual – carefully, intently, repeatedly, over many years.  I understand the sales reps’ confusion.  Compared to it, Ikea’s is a paragon of clarity.  I have never harassed the reps, although they often harass me.  You, and the reps, would like to believe, and have others believe, that all the claims are identical.

I would love to take the “necessary steps”.  It’s just that it is quickly clear that competing reps’ claims are contradictory, and mutually exclusive.  Even when they agree, the promised quality and delivery of the final product violates observed reality, and arrives, at the exact frequency as blind chance.  The Nigerian Prince can do that well.  How then can I, or anyone, know which claims and conditions are true, that we may follow them??

I know that I am only a potential customer, but I dare to suggest that you cut back the budget of the Promotional Department, stop offering a free, magical prize in every glitzy package, and, instead, have Production grind out solid, reliable product.

I envy your writing skills and ability to analogize so impressively. But I can only point out that our “product” came to die in order to make it possible for all of our customers who choose to accept it to enjoy an (eternal) lifetime warranty. He then left an empty grave behind. If you have a proposed explanation for how that happened that makes sense of more of the evidence for His explanation, then please submit it. Best regards, A Rep.

That’s a debate for another day. Why not solve these problems first?? It might lend credence to any additional claims.  While there ‘should be’ only one basic model, far too many representatives, with or without the knowledge or authorization of Head Office, take it upon themselves to create a whole customized ‘Product Line,’ adding non-standard options, and tighter lease restrictions.  They can’t all be right, but they can all be wrong.

They urge me to take their product on faith.  Faith is the excuse that people give, when they don’t have a good reason to believe.  If they had a good reason, they would give it. If and when all the infighting has ceased, and there is one reputable path to truth, then, and only then, will I consider buying into this.

No, your entire prospect for enjoying our product depends entirely upon how you respond to this specific question. We certainly hope that you will take full advantage of our product but whether or you do, depends upon your response on this question. Best regards.

Did I miss something?? Which specific unspecified question would that be?? Is Jesus Divine? Is Jesus the Son of God? Is Jesus God? Is God one part – or three – or more? And we haven’t even got to the ‘Did He actually  exist? Did He perform miracles? and, Do we have to dab Evian on our foreheads, and stick our left knee out when we go to visit him?’  The only question seems to be whether or not I will accept your specific delusion.
Even the architects of the Tower of Babel put down a solid foundation before they started building toward God. You could at least do the same.

The League of Sedentary Gentlemen

I have joined a prestigious, if none too exclusive club.  The League of Sedentary Gentlemen graciously offered me an honorary membership, just because I mentioned that my idea of exercise is a good, brisk sit.  I questioned accepting membership in a group that would accept me as a member

They all sit around (what else) texting each other with suggestions for the best way to get a wife, or grandkid, or a guilt-ridden neighbor to bring them another beer or a fresh mint julep.  Well, most of the rest of them do.  I’m an old technological Luddite, still trying to figure out the intricacies of these new-fangled touch-tone phones.

I tried to talk one or more of them into coming over to the house and explaining it to me, but none of them want to leave the safety and comfort of their living room or front porch.  They claim that if they relieve pressure on their butt-cheeks, their prostates will swell.

I’ve spent a good chunk of my life, fetchin’ and totin’ for other folks.  I just thought that it was time to sit back, take it easy, and deeply cogitate about… sittin’ back and taking it easy.  There are no problems that are too deep or complex, that they can’t be addressed with the judicious use of a remote control, and/or an intercom or walkie-talkie.  I’ve got this COVID ‘sheltering at home’ thing down to a fine science.

I have so impressed so many of the group, that I am considering standing for election as President of the League, but standing can get you tossed out of this loosely rational knit organization.  I expect to sit, comfortably, both before and after I achieve total control.  My dynamite campaign trick will be to distribute a NSFW photo of my ass, showing the corduroy marks from the extra pillow that I added to my computer chair.

I have a lot of great ideas for the League, that don’t involve strenuous movement.  I’d like to set up a group of online webinars, with titles like, ‘Leaving the Rocker/Recliner To Go To Bed: Good Idea, or Bad?’‘How Do You Know When You’ve Had Enough Nothing?’ – ‘Door-Dash, Skip The Dishes, and Uber-Eats: Pillars of the Republic! and ‘Screened Front Porches: Salvation Of The Nation!’

I might become so famous and well-known that I could sit on the Supreme Court – as long as I get an aide who will wheel me into the courtroom.  What is your position on abortion?  Recumbent, on the couch.  The sun can rise every day, but I am not that motivated.  I have an irresistible force to remain an immovable object.

I wouldn’t object if you expressed your unwavering support for my plan.  I’ll take your word for it.  It’s not like I’m going to actually get up and check.

Another labor-saving position

 

The Business Of One Liners

meetings

If you see me talking to myself, just keep moving….
….I’m self-employed, and we’re having a staff meeting.

I think my wife is showing the first signs of Alzheimer’s….
….She says she can’t remember what she ever saw in me.

What do lazy dogs chase?….
….Parked cars.

I’ve been saying “Mucho” to all my Mexican friends….
….It means a lot to them

They laughed when I told them that one day I would discover the secret of invisibility….
….If only they could see me now

The road to inner peace begins with three words….
….NOT MY PROBLEM

How many programmers does it take to change a light bulb?….
….None!   That’s a hardware issue

Letting the cat out of the bag….
….is a lot easier than putting it back in

Cat puns freak meowt….
….Seriously, I’m not kitten.

What is the cat wizard’s name?….
….Hairy Pawter

What does a cat scientist study?….
….String theory

A man walks into a bar….
….and says, “Ouch!”

A horse walks into a bar….
….and several patrons leave, realizing the potential danger.

If I had a dollar for every joke I’ve told wrong….
….To get to the other side.

I was going to tell a joke about time travel….
….but you didn’t like it

Cliff-hangers are so frustrating….
….They just

They tried to invent a #1 pencil….
….but it was too hard

I will not sleep….
….until I find a cure for my insomnia.

Every time you make a typo….
….the errorists win.

Lost cat….
….return dead or alive to Erwin Schrodinger

Butt weight….
….I went back on my diet today

I called the tinnitus hotline today….
….It didn’t stop ringing

One-armed butlers….
….they can take it, but they can’t dish it out

A termite walks into a bar….
….and says Where’s the bar tender?

I went to an Overthinkers Anonymous meeting….
….Seriously though, why only 12 steps?

 

’20 A To Z Challenge – A

A To Z ChallengeLetter A

 

One of my beloved family members told me to stop procrastinating, and get writing on this blog-post, but I don’t procrastinate. With thanx to Jim for making me aware of it, I’ll start this year’s series from a dead stop, with the word

ANOSOGNOSIA

Anosognosia is a neurological deficit in self-awareness, a condition in which a person with a disability is unaware or in denial of its existence. Like most other medical conditions, there is a minimum threshold value which must be reached before a doctor will officially diagnose this problem.

That doesn’t mean that people in your life don’t suffer from it to some degree, while we have to suffer because of it. Whether it’s the wife/husband that you happen to be married to, or the idiot in the next cubicle at work, they’re all a Little Miss Can’t-Be-WrongThey can’t be in error! You must be mistaken.

I was going to suggest meditation for recovery of calmness, but the last time I meditated, by the time I was finished, I had amassed a significant list of, mainly undetectable, methods of murder removing the problem: eye drops in the coffee, rat poison in the doughnut in the break room fridge, which I knew he’d steal, a shoelace garrotte, a computer power-bar that just happened to short out. Perhaps you should just leave the meditation alone.

I’m not always right, but I’m never wrong. I thought that I was wrong once, but I was mistaken. There’s nothing wrong with you showing up again in a couple of days. I’m all right with that. 😀

I Know That I Promised

Island

I know that I promised, and I know that most of you have read about it, but this story was just too precious, not to comment on.

American Is Killed by Bow and Arrow on Remote Indian Island

John Allen Chau had to know that what he was about to do was extremely dangerous.

Mr. Chau, thought to be in his 20s, was floating in a kayak off a remote island in the Andaman Sea. He was about to set foot on one of the most sealed-off parts of India, an island inhabited by a small, highly enigmatic tribe whose members have killed outsiders for simply stepping on their shore.

Fishermen warned him not to go. Few outsiders had ever been there. Indian government regulations clearly prohibited any interaction with people on the island, called North Sentinel.

While I was reading this story, I wondered what this guy was – some sort of super-jock survivalist, out to prove that he had was the biggest dick??! Then came the punch line.

But Mr. Chau pushed ahead in his kayak, which he had packed with a Bible. After that, it is a bit of a mystery what happened. On Wednesday, the Indian authorities said that Mr. Chau had been shot with bows and arrows by tribesmen when he got on shore. It was a “misplaced adventure,’’ said Dependra Pathak, the police chief.

No, it wasn’t!! There is no mystery. This was not “an adventure.” This self-made martyr was an unwelcome Christian missionary, too arrogant and stupid to stay out of harm’s way. The article doesn’t say if he was a Jehovah’s Witness, but apparently there are even some Indian people who don’t like telemarketers. 😯

He violated the laws of India, which clearly forbid him from interfering with the natives. He violated the rules of his own missionary group, who urged him not to go, and he disobeyed Christ’s own Biblical directives. Jesus said to go by twos, to spread the word. Christ obviously knew the need for backup, but Chau insisted on going alone – probably because he couldn’t find anyone else crazy enough to go with him.

Christ said, “If you offer the word to a people, and they refuse it, depart from that place and leave them.” Chau swam ashore one day, and the natives shot arrows at him, obviously not willing to accept him (or Him) and The Word. The only arrow to hit, struck his Bible. He believed that God had spared him. Instead of departing from that place, he swam back out to the fish boat, but returned the next day.

He is apparently unmarried and childless, so he qualifies for the Darwin Award. He’s not your usual, testosterone-infused gym-jock. He is was something even worse – A faith-infused Jesus-Jock. At least he managed to kill only himself.

I repeat from my post, “What’s wrong with a comfortable delusion?” Because, not every time, but ultimately, and inevitably, it leads to the likes of:

Jim Jones and the Jonestown Massacre – 918 good Christians dead.
Uganda, Nov. 2018 – more than 918 black Christian sect suicide deaths
David Koresh and the Branch Davidian standoff in Waco – 75 faithful and 4 FBI agents dead
Heaven’s Gate cult mutilation and suicides – 39 dead
Solar Temple Order – 74 dead in Quebec, France, and Switzerland
South Korean ‘Benevolent Mother’ sect – 32 poisoned and strangled

And these are just the recent, penny-ante examples. How about the Inquisition, where thousands were horribly tortured and executed, or the Crusades, where hundreds of thousands died on faraway battlefields, or through disease or starvation, including excess population children?

And these are still penny-ante! How about the delusionally manipulated European peasants of the Dark Ages?? The Church convinced them that cats were the minions of Satan, so they killed them all off – which allowed rats to proliferate – which promoted the growth of fleas infected with bubonic plague – which killed off over 1/3 of the total population of Europe…. Millions and Millions!

Anyone who doesn’t see, or denies the relationship, is more than comfortably deluded. Not to seem harsh, but, aside from the FBI agents in Waco, I don’t really give a damn. It’s a self-solving problem. It’s about as important as being unfriended on FaceBitch: it’s like the garbage taking itself out. 😈

Delusion does nothing but hold us back. Truth is far more important than all of the soothing lies and should be sought in all instances. I know that sometimes the lies can give you temporary peace, but in the end, somebody always gets hurt.

Halloween In A Graveyard

Gravestone

I once got the chance to patrol a graveyard on a Halloween night.  I know, I know!  The excitement!  The prestige!  Where do I go to apply for a keen job like that?  Sadly, the unemployment office.

When an unethical manager had pulled the cube-drone carpet out from underneath me, I had found temporary employment with a security-guard company.  They had placed me at a St. Joseph’s Hospital as a glorified ‘Lollipop Lady’ crossing guard.  I didn’t even get to wear an orange, don’t-run-me-down vest.

The hospital had two, parallel, one-way driveways down one side.  Traffic came in on one, swung around past Receiving and the kitchens, and exited on the other.  Work on water mains had them alternatively dug up for about a week.

We stationed a guard at the front and the back, with portable radios.  If a vehicle came in, the guard at the back held any outgoing traffic until the single lane was clear, and vice versa.  Out of sight of any street traffic, the guard at the back could rest in a lawn chair until called.  We alternated every hour….until the Mother Superior looked out the window, and decided that that wasn’t fair, and decreed that no-one could rest.

It was especially busy late in the morning, because they had a Meals On Wheels program.  Civilian volunteers picked up a few meals each and delivered them.  We wouldn’t want them smashing into each other, and spilling all that delicious hospital food.

As Halloween approached, and I still hadn’t found suitable employment, the scheduler asked me if I would consider patrolling a graveyard, from 6PM till 2AM that night to prevent any vandalism or skullduggery.

The hospital sat in the middle of a long stretch of main road that didn’t have any cross-streets.  The Catholic cemetery behind the hospital (where the doctors buried their mistakes) extended back to the next road.  Two pedestrian-access walkways converged through it in a V, toward the hospital.

Another guard and I followed each other around the block-long legs of the triangle.  It never occurred to us to patrol in opposite directions, to stop and talk, and compare notes occasionally.  All went well for the first couple of hours – until the sun set.

That’s when we discovered that there were no street lights on the adjoining road, no light-posts within the cemetery, and no lights between the hospital and the cemetery.  It was a typical cloudy Halloween night…. it was pitch-black DARK back there, and nobody thought to give us flashlights.

At about 9:30, I had emerged from one of the exits, and was walking toward the other, when I saw three 15/16-year-old males enter ahead of me.  While it was light, I had found a two-foot piece of 1½ inch PVC electrical conduit on the path – a tripping hazard, especially in the dark, so I picked it up, and was carrying it, just in case.

I could hear them walking, and conversing, a hundred feet ahead of me in the Stygian gloom, although I couldn’t make out the words.  Then it got quiet.  Often, that’s not a good thing.  Suddenly, something smacked into the gravestone beside me.  Something whizzed past my ear.  Something struck the grass beside me!  Holy Crap, those little f**kers are throwing things at me.

I ducked behind a nearby gravestone, and the barrage continued.  Something bounced off the gravestone beside me.  I felt around in the dark, and found a pulped crab apple.  CLANG!  That wasn’t a crab apple that hit my cover.  More crab apples, splat, whiz, then, another CLANG off the tombstone next to me.  The moon, through a slight rift in the clouds, revealed a sharp stone, as big as a golf ball.

What in Hell am I going to do??!  We don’t have our traffic-directing radios, and if this keeps up, my fellow-guard is going to walk around the corner any moment, right into the middle of this.

“It’s okay, Bobby.  You can come out now.  We won’t throw anything else at you.”  I’m not Bobby!  “Who the hell are you?”  I’m the security guard who’s supposed to keep you from damaging anything.  Are you idiots??!  Throwing crab apples is dangerous enough, but throwing rocks at someone you can’t see, or identify – in the dark….  You could blind or kill someone!  “Sorry, we didn’t think.”  Said every teenage boy ever, just before he qualified for the Darwin Award.

Patrolling a graveyard on Halloween is an…. interesting task.  Ghosts and ghouls don’t exist, so they’re no problem.  It’s the live ones who cause all the troubles.  😯

Jack O Lantern

Happy Halloween!  Trick or Treat.  😀

2017 A To Z Challenge – N

*Challenge2017

Our Canadian Postal Code is N2N 3B4.  When asked for it, to prevent mistakes due to misheard pronunciation, we tell people that it is, “Not too new, three before.”

For the letter

letter-n

I downloaded these prompts;
negotiate, no, new, news(papers), notes, not my problem, Niagara, night, name, nothing

In no particular order;                   

I have already composed and published a post about ‘It’s Not My Problem’ here, for anyone who wants to (re)read it.

I live about an hour and a half drive from Niagara Falls, Ontario.  It’s an unusual year that I don’t take the wife, the son, or both, for a day or a weekend there.  I published a 100-word Flash Fiction about it here,  including a great photo of the night-time colored lights on the American side, buried in the comments.

I’m so old that nothing is new anymore.  I’ve seen it all, done most of it, forgotten a bunch, and been caught at very little.

I’ve written about my lack of memory, a problem that I partially solve with copious notes.  See – prompts, above.

I’m sure like many others, my wife is addicted to the word no, and doesn’t even realize it.  (and I’m not gonna mention it)  The first word of response to any question or request, is likely to be, “No.”  Maybe it comes from raising children or grandkids. “Do you want me to put the rest of this stew in a Tupperware container, and put it in the fridge?  We could have it for lunch one day next week.” “No.  I want to save it for a lunch next week.  Put it in a Tupperware container and put it in the fridge.”

For no reason, other than that I never have, I continue not to reveal my first name on my blog-site.  I kinda discussed this back on M’s misidentification post.  Call me Ishmael Archon.

Several years ago, the Waterloo Region Record newspaper switched to being a ‘morning’ paper, guaranteed to be to your house by 5:30 AM.  When it was an afternoon paper, it was delivered by reliable school-kids after class.  Now, it is delivered to me by a Jamaican Negro in an old truck.  Since the son works midnights, he has the car, and the driveway is empty.

Rasta-Man rolls down the hill in neutral, rolls up our slanted driveway and puts the brakes on, flings the paper out the driver’s window left-handed, and rolls back out of the driveway. He’s only touched the house with the paper twice in that time.  Once, it landed on my porch roof, and the other time he pitched the heavy Saturday edition through the porch railing, snapping one of the support spindles.  I have found it in two different gardens, stuck up in our magnolia bush and so far under it that, like the porch roof delivery, I had to use a broom to get it.  Often it lands at the garage corner – right where the eave drips after a rain, or a snow melt.  Fortunately, they come in a plastic bag, although I’ve had to defrost an ice-coated paper.

Last summer, he must have taken vacation. On the first Monday, I called circulation because I didn’t get my copy.   Someone drove one out to me.  We don’t get mail home delivery, but I have a mailbox for things like newspapers.  Tuesday, as I went out to look, something made me look in the box.  Sure enough, there were Monday, and Tuesday’s papers, and so it continued for two weeks.

One time, at the auto-parts plant, I was invited to join the Labor team who would negotiate a new contract.  I politely declined.  It takes a particular type of person, and my boredom level is quickly reached.  Diplomacy is also defined as tact, or restraint, or good manners.  Like diplomats, people who negotiate Labor contracts have to get used to repeatedly saying ‘nothing’, for days, weeks, even months, until finally someone cracks.

One year, we mistakenly elected a big ‘Buffalo Biker’ as union president, to lead the team. We thought that he would frighten the opposition.  He screamed and yelled and stomped around the room, and pounded on tables….but, that’s not the way you successfully negotiate.  It was the worst contract we ever attained.  😳