*Ron Mount, the ace reporter for the Daily Weekly, recently interviewed his hero, Perry White, the editor of the Metropolis Daily Planet:
Mount: Chief, this is an honor to interview you.
White: The honor is all mine, and don’t call me Chief!
Mount: Sorry. You’ve been a successful newspaperman for over eighty years. What’s your secret, sir?
White: The most important thing in the newspaper racket is to be able to “read” people.
Mount: What does that mean, sir?
White: Often people pretend to be something that they’re not. A good newspaperman can spot a phony; he can see the real person behind the façade.
Clark Kent, one of White’s reporters, enters the room: Excuse me Perry, I just wanted to drop off this article on the Merton case.
White: Thank you. Clark Kent, I’d like to introduce Ron Mount from our sister publication, The Daily Weekly.
After the introductions are concluded Kent leaves the room.
White: Now, Kent is easy to read. He’s clumsy and shy; he’d probably faint if a girl ever kissed him! He’s just a mild mannered reporter, nothing more and nothing less.
Mount: Don’t you think he looks a lot like Superman?
White, after laughing loudly: That’s a good one! You’re a reporter; where are your observation skills? Superman and Kent don’t even comb their hair the same way, and Superman wouldn’t be caught dead wearing glasses!
Mount: Do you have regular contact with this Superman fellow?
White: Oh sure. As a matter of fact, he keeps a close eye on this place; just about every day pedestrians report seeing the Man of Steel flying out one of our windows.
Mount: From what I’ve heard he has many powers.
White: That’s true, but what’s even more impressive is that the guy keeps learning. Heck, when he started showing up around here in the 1930s I suggested that he wear a green uniform and call himself “Super Frog.”
Mount: Why is that, sir?
White: Well, when Superman first came here he could pick up a truck over his head, smile at the bad guys while their bullets bounced off his chest, and leap a couple city blocks at a time, but he had no idea how to fly.
Mount: That’s amazing! Who does he hang out with?
White: Superman comes to this building in part because Lois Lane works here. He’s had the “hots” for her for some time now. Then, of course, he is a member of The League of Super Heroes, so he hangs out with the other protectors of the earth.
Mount: Chief, who are some of these other protectors and what are their powers?
White: Don’t believe this recent movie stuff about Superman and Batman being enemies. If that were true poor Batman would be a pile of smoldering ashes by now! In reality, Superman’s best pal is the Batman, who works out of Gotham City. He has no super powers per se, but he has a lot of neat stuff in his utility belt and he’s mean as a snake! The Flash can run like the wind. As a matter of fact, he once beat Superman in a footrace. You know, the Flash would be one heck of a pizza delivery man, don’t you think? He could advertise that the pizza would be delivered in two minutes or your money back. Then there’s the Green Lantern; darned if I can figure out what his special power is. With that stupid lantern he looks like a yard ornament! Then there’s Wonder Woman. She’s built like the Fortress of Solitude, if you catch my meaning, and she’s always losing her plane. No wonder; it’s invisible! Super Dave, who wore a sack over his face and a towel around his neck, is a retired super hero of note. He’d throw his aunt’s brick-like homemade loaves of bread at the bad guys until they surrendered. I think he’s now living quietly somewhere in Texas. Of course, all these other heroes are envious of Superman. And don’t call me chief!
Mount: Sorry, sir. Why is that?
White: They realize that all their powers together don’t add up to those of the Man of Steel. That’s why they’re always sending him somewhere else so that they can solve a major problem. For example, just a few months ago they sent Superman to Cleveland in case there would be rioting over LeBron’s decision to take his skills elsewhere, and they cautioned him that the Cuyahoga River could catch fire again at any time. With Superman out of the way, the others then could get credit for stopping a huge meteor that was heading for earth.
Mount: Does Superman have any pets?
White: Yeah, he has a dog named Krypto. Dog catchers are scared of him.
Mount: Why’s that?
White: That mutt has super powers. Every time a dog catcher goes after him the poor schmuck ends up with a hot foot.
Mount: A hot foot?
White: Yeah, the dog has heat vision, just like its owner. And let me tell you something; you don’t want to be in the vicinity when that dog stops at a fire hydrant. His super water pressure puts that thing into orbit!
Mount: Who is his chief enemy?
White: Don’t call me chief!
Mount: I didn’t, sir!
White: Lex Luther hates Superman’s guts! He’s been trying to kill the Man of Steel since the Great Depression.
Mount: Does Superman have any weaknesses?
White: Yes; he’s addicted to soap operas and Kryptonite can kill him.
Mount: What is Kryptonite?
White: It’s radioactive chunks from the planet Krypton. That’s where Superman was born. His old man sent him to earth in a rocket just before the planet exploded.
Mount: What caused the explosion?
White: According to my liberal friends the planet Krypton overheated due to man-made (Kryptonian?) emissions. No doubt a Cap and Trade policy would have saved them all.
Mount: No doubt. Well, thank you so much for this interview, Mr. White.
White: You’re welcome, Mount, and don’t call me Mr. White!
Once outside the building, Mount hears a loud swishing sound overhead. Could it be the greatest of super heroes? Looking upward, he wondered: “ Is it a bird? Is it a plane?” Unfortunately, it was a bird, and it was right on target.
Thursday, August 10, 2017
Friday, July 28, 2017
Edith or Edna?
Way back in 1919 it was not unusual for women to give birth at home. Therefore, it is not surprising that my grandmother gave birth to twin girls at the old family farmhouse in rural Ohio. At least there was a doctor present.
One infant, named Edna, either died immediately after birth or was stillborn. Grandpa, in his grief, made plans to construct a tiny casket for his deceased daughter.
The doctor, trying to be helpful, said, “You had better make two caskets, for the other one will not survive long.”
The “other one”-Edith- weighed next to nothing, had a blue tinge about her at birth ,and at first the doctor could not detect any breathing. Only by placing a mirror in front of her face could he detect any signs of life.
As things turned out, Grandpa was wise to ignore the good doctor’s advice, for the second tiny infant lasted another 77 years! During that time she married and raised four children.
Tragically, in 1996 we learned that both Dad and Mom were battling cancer. After Dad’s death we helped Mom stay at home until there was no other choice but to use the services of Hospice.
One day when we went to visit her one of us noticed that the name listed at the foot of her bed was “Edna!” Where had they gotten that name? Mom had been entered under her name-”Edith.” To this day we haven’t solved this mystery. Contacting a nurse, we soon had the name on the bed corrected.
Despite her courageous battle, we lost our mother on January 1, 1997. It’s strange that even when a person is in his or her forties or fifties, when the parents die one feels like an orphan. She was a hardworking, giving person, who was only selfish once in her life. No doubt to the surprise of the doctor mentioned above, she gave us 77 years, but in our hearts that was not nearly enough.
A few weeks after Mom’s death one of my sisters sent a check to Hospice as a way of thanking the nurses and doctors for the fine care they had provided. In the attached note my sister listed Mom’s name so that Hospice officials would know about which person she was referring.
A couple days later she received a thank you note from Hospice officials. Once again they referred to Mom as “Edna!” At that point things were getting rather creepy!
Was our mother trying to tell us something? During the confusion of childbirth perhaps the names of the two little girls inadvertently had been switched. Had Edith died at birth? Was our beloved mother really Edna?
I guess we will never know the answer to that one. Of course, it really isn‘t important. No matter what her name, we have fond memories of our mother. As Shakespeare made clear, a rose by any other name does not diminish its beauty. Whether Mom was Edith, Edna, or whatever, the fact remains that she was a good person and as a result her children have many happy memories. That’s enough.
One infant, named Edna, either died immediately after birth or was stillborn. Grandpa, in his grief, made plans to construct a tiny casket for his deceased daughter.
The doctor, trying to be helpful, said, “You had better make two caskets, for the other one will not survive long.”
The “other one”-Edith- weighed next to nothing, had a blue tinge about her at birth ,and at first the doctor could not detect any breathing. Only by placing a mirror in front of her face could he detect any signs of life.
As things turned out, Grandpa was wise to ignore the good doctor’s advice, for the second tiny infant lasted another 77 years! During that time she married and raised four children.
Tragically, in 1996 we learned that both Dad and Mom were battling cancer. After Dad’s death we helped Mom stay at home until there was no other choice but to use the services of Hospice.
One day when we went to visit her one of us noticed that the name listed at the foot of her bed was “Edna!” Where had they gotten that name? Mom had been entered under her name-”Edith.” To this day we haven’t solved this mystery. Contacting a nurse, we soon had the name on the bed corrected.
Despite her courageous battle, we lost our mother on January 1, 1997. It’s strange that even when a person is in his or her forties or fifties, when the parents die one feels like an orphan. She was a hardworking, giving person, who was only selfish once in her life. No doubt to the surprise of the doctor mentioned above, she gave us 77 years, but in our hearts that was not nearly enough.
A few weeks after Mom’s death one of my sisters sent a check to Hospice as a way of thanking the nurses and doctors for the fine care they had provided. In the attached note my sister listed Mom’s name so that Hospice officials would know about which person she was referring.
A couple days later she received a thank you note from Hospice officials. Once again they referred to Mom as “Edna!” At that point things were getting rather creepy!
Was our mother trying to tell us something? During the confusion of childbirth perhaps the names of the two little girls inadvertently had been switched. Had Edith died at birth? Was our beloved mother really Edna?
I guess we will never know the answer to that one. Of course, it really isn‘t important. No matter what her name, we have fond memories of our mother. As Shakespeare made clear, a rose by any other name does not diminish its beauty. Whether Mom was Edith, Edna, or whatever, the fact remains that she was a good person and as a result her children have many happy memories. That’s enough.
Saturday, July 15, 2017
Comic Books
Back in the 1950s I spent many Saturdays hunting discarded pop bottles. The regular eight ounce bottle had a deposit of two cents, while the quart bottle cost an extra nickel . Pulling my wagon behind me, on good days I would collect enough bottles to fetch a dollar or so.
The clerk at the nearby Herb’s Market accepted the bottles, perhaps knowing that the money given to me would not be leaving the building. With cash in my pocket, I’d go to the comic book rack to find the latest Superman or Batman and Robin editions. The regular-size comic book cost a dime; the “giant annual” went for a quarter. Occasionally Superman and Batman would be featured together in the same magazine. That was like getting two for the price of one.
Many of us kids hated some of the literature that was forced upon us in school. First of all, from our point of view much of it was irrelevant ; secondly, the teachers would wring any joy out of those stories by forcing us to over analyze them. We read comic books simply because they were entertaining. The point is that we were reading voluntarily, so parents and educators should have been thrilled.
The comic books that I read pitted the good guys against the bad ones, and in the end, the good guys won. My favorite character was Superman. No one guessed that Clark Kent, the mild-mannered reporter for the “Daily Planet“, was in reality the Man of Steel. Batman lacked superhuman powers, but with several gadgets and lots of smarts he made the bad guys pay for their crimes. Occasionally I’d also read comic books featuring the Green Lantern, Flash, or Wonder Woman.
The first comic books in America were published in the 1930s. They got their name from the fact that they were comic strips reprinted from newspapers. Superman introduced the superhero in the June 1938 issue of “Action Comics“. Other crime fighters with unusual powers soon followed.
A psychiatrist by the name of Fredric Wertham, who was genuinely concerned about the welfare of children., wrote “Seduction of the Innocent” in 1954. He believed that comic books, at least many of them, depicted violence, which in turn promoted violent actions by the young readers. In addition, he suggested that Superman was a fascist, Batman and Robin were gay partners, and Wonder Woman was a lesbian.
A Senate Subcommittee on Juvenile Delinquency then investigated the possible harm caused by comic book reading (Maybe Russia was behind all this?). Many concerned Americans believed that comic books were at least partially responsible for just about every problem of the young-from juvenile delinquency to drug use. Thankfully, they couldn’t find a connection between comic books and acne.
Many fearful parents attempted to keep this “horrible” stuff away from their kids. Some groups even sponsored public comic book burnings. Of course, Hitler and his NAZI fiends liked book burnings, too. The right to ban “harmful” material ran smack into the Constitutional right of free speech.
Under pressure, the comic book publishers began to regulate themselves by developing the Comics Code Authority. The good doctor, however, believed that the code was not restrictive enough to protect the young.
Like the situation with Elvis Presley and rock and roll in general, the critics overreacted. Those comic books of the 1950s are rather tame and innocent when compared to what kids are exposed to today. If he’s somehow aware of today‘s video games, movies, and CDs, the late doctor is probably spinning in his grave.
The clerk at the nearby Herb’s Market accepted the bottles, perhaps knowing that the money given to me would not be leaving the building. With cash in my pocket, I’d go to the comic book rack to find the latest Superman or Batman and Robin editions. The regular-size comic book cost a dime; the “giant annual” went for a quarter. Occasionally Superman and Batman would be featured together in the same magazine. That was like getting two for the price of one.
Many of us kids hated some of the literature that was forced upon us in school. First of all, from our point of view much of it was irrelevant ; secondly, the teachers would wring any joy out of those stories by forcing us to over analyze them. We read comic books simply because they were entertaining. The point is that we were reading voluntarily, so parents and educators should have been thrilled.
The comic books that I read pitted the good guys against the bad ones, and in the end, the good guys won. My favorite character was Superman. No one guessed that Clark Kent, the mild-mannered reporter for the “Daily Planet“, was in reality the Man of Steel. Batman lacked superhuman powers, but with several gadgets and lots of smarts he made the bad guys pay for their crimes. Occasionally I’d also read comic books featuring the Green Lantern, Flash, or Wonder Woman.
The first comic books in America were published in the 1930s. They got their name from the fact that they were comic strips reprinted from newspapers. Superman introduced the superhero in the June 1938 issue of “Action Comics“. Other crime fighters with unusual powers soon followed.
A psychiatrist by the name of Fredric Wertham, who was genuinely concerned about the welfare of children., wrote “Seduction of the Innocent” in 1954. He believed that comic books, at least many of them, depicted violence, which in turn promoted violent actions by the young readers. In addition, he suggested that Superman was a fascist, Batman and Robin were gay partners, and Wonder Woman was a lesbian.
A Senate Subcommittee on Juvenile Delinquency then investigated the possible harm caused by comic book reading (Maybe Russia was behind all this?). Many concerned Americans believed that comic books were at least partially responsible for just about every problem of the young-from juvenile delinquency to drug use. Thankfully, they couldn’t find a connection between comic books and acne.
Many fearful parents attempted to keep this “horrible” stuff away from their kids. Some groups even sponsored public comic book burnings. Of course, Hitler and his NAZI fiends liked book burnings, too. The right to ban “harmful” material ran smack into the Constitutional right of free speech.
Under pressure, the comic book publishers began to regulate themselves by developing the Comics Code Authority. The good doctor, however, believed that the code was not restrictive enough to protect the young.
Like the situation with Elvis Presley and rock and roll in general, the critics overreacted. Those comic books of the 1950s are rather tame and innocent when compared to what kids are exposed to today. If he’s somehow aware of today‘s video games, movies, and CDs, the late doctor is probably spinning in his grave.
Monday, July 3, 2017
The Stadium Tour
*During the off-season a big-time university offers tours of its renowned football stadium. The author walked away thinking he had just visited a money-trap.
“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen,” proclaimed the grizzled tour guide. “You will get to see things that ordinary fans seldom see.”
After paying my twenty dollars I joined a group of eight.
“We will begin our tour in the Fred Foronsi Hall. During the football games this is where you come to buy
hotdogs, pizza, pretzels, popcorn, and, of course, beer. To your left is the Quimby Moto men’s restroom.”
“Should alcoholic beverages be sold at sporting events?” one middle-aged lady asked.
The tour guide responded: “After all that yelling and cheering, and after eating our highly-seasoned food, those fans need liquid refreshment. Besides, we quit selling beer at the end of the third quarter, so we are being totally responsible.”
“How much to do charge for this public service?” asked a little old lady.
“Just enough to cover our expenses and help pay the head coach’s salary, which is twelve million a year. One can get an ice cold beer here for only $10.”
“Excuse me, sir,” I inquired. “Why does everything seem to have the name of a person in front of it?”
“Those are naming rights,” the guide proclaimed. “Mr. Foronsi was able to secure naming rights for just $450,000 a year and Mr. Moto purchased his for a mere $250,000 annually.”
“I have about thirty-five dollars,” I stated. “What can I buy with that?”
“Nothing,” the guide responded. “However, for $25,000 we can place your likeness in the bottom of one of the urinals in the Quimby Moto restroom.”
After serious thought I passed on that opportunity.
After climbing a flight of stairs we came to a large office.
“This is the head coach’s stadium office,” the guide announced. “For a donation of only $10,000 you can meet the coach here, have your picture taken with him, and spend up to three minutes sitting in his chair.”
Next we went to a corporate suite.
“This is a mid-level suite, complete with bar, refrigerator, padded seats and its own restroom. This little number can be yours for only $350,000 per year.”
“Do you have anything for $120?” a retired school teacher inquired.
See the seat located behind that big girder? We can fix you up there for only $115 a game!”
“But you can’t see the field from there, “ the retired teacher complained.
“What do you expect for $115?” answered the guide.
“Is the parking free on game days?” asked the little old lady.
“We have a special deal for you,” quipped the guide. “For only thirty dollars you can park in our lot all day!”
“It seems that this university is money-hungry,” stated a minister who was on the tour.
“Well, we do have expenses,” the guide explained. “The athletic director makes three million a year, and the assistant coaches average over $750,000 apiece.”
“How much does the university president make?” asked the little old lady.
“About $200,000 a year,” stated the guide.
“Isn’t that a bit unfair?” asked the minister.
“No,” replied the tour guide, “Our head coach had a much better year than she did!”
“Is every student guaranteed a ticket for each home game?” I asked.
“No, that wouldn’t be fair to the rich alumni who can fork over the big -time bucks,” replied the guide.
Getting on my high horse, I proclaimed, “Since this is a state-supported university, it seems to me that the costs around here should be kept low enough that ordinary folks can attend games.”
“Nobody’s stopping them,” explained the guide. “It’s their own fault if they don’t get second or third jobs.”
As the tour came to an end, the minister replied: “Well, at least the cost of touring the stadium was reasonable.”
“Thank you,” said the tour guide, who was surrounded by five large guards carrying clubs. “Now each of you need to pay an exit fee of $50. Those new suites are not going to build themselves, you know.”
“Step right up, ladies and gentlemen,” proclaimed the grizzled tour guide. “You will get to see things that ordinary fans seldom see.”
After paying my twenty dollars I joined a group of eight.
“We will begin our tour in the Fred Foronsi Hall. During the football games this is where you come to buy
hotdogs, pizza, pretzels, popcorn, and, of course, beer. To your left is the Quimby Moto men’s restroom.”
“Should alcoholic beverages be sold at sporting events?” one middle-aged lady asked.
The tour guide responded: “After all that yelling and cheering, and after eating our highly-seasoned food, those fans need liquid refreshment. Besides, we quit selling beer at the end of the third quarter, so we are being totally responsible.”
“How much to do charge for this public service?” asked a little old lady.
“Just enough to cover our expenses and help pay the head coach’s salary, which is twelve million a year. One can get an ice cold beer here for only $10.”
“Excuse me, sir,” I inquired. “Why does everything seem to have the name of a person in front of it?”
“Those are naming rights,” the guide proclaimed. “Mr. Foronsi was able to secure naming rights for just $450,000 a year and Mr. Moto purchased his for a mere $250,000 annually.”
“I have about thirty-five dollars,” I stated. “What can I buy with that?”
“Nothing,” the guide responded. “However, for $25,000 we can place your likeness in the bottom of one of the urinals in the Quimby Moto restroom.”
After serious thought I passed on that opportunity.
After climbing a flight of stairs we came to a large office.
“This is the head coach’s stadium office,” the guide announced. “For a donation of only $10,000 you can meet the coach here, have your picture taken with him, and spend up to three minutes sitting in his chair.”
Next we went to a corporate suite.
“This is a mid-level suite, complete with bar, refrigerator, padded seats and its own restroom. This little number can be yours for only $350,000 per year.”
“Do you have anything for $120?” a retired school teacher inquired.
See the seat located behind that big girder? We can fix you up there for only $115 a game!”
“But you can’t see the field from there, “ the retired teacher complained.
“What do you expect for $115?” answered the guide.
“Is the parking free on game days?” asked the little old lady.
“We have a special deal for you,” quipped the guide. “For only thirty dollars you can park in our lot all day!”
“It seems that this university is money-hungry,” stated a minister who was on the tour.
“Well, we do have expenses,” the guide explained. “The athletic director makes three million a year, and the assistant coaches average over $750,000 apiece.”
“How much does the university president make?” asked the little old lady.
“About $200,000 a year,” stated the guide.
“Isn’t that a bit unfair?” asked the minister.
“No,” replied the tour guide, “Our head coach had a much better year than she did!”
“Is every student guaranteed a ticket for each home game?” I asked.
“No, that wouldn’t be fair to the rich alumni who can fork over the big -time bucks,” replied the guide.
Getting on my high horse, I proclaimed, “Since this is a state-supported university, it seems to me that the costs around here should be kept low enough that ordinary folks can attend games.”
“Nobody’s stopping them,” explained the guide. “It’s their own fault if they don’t get second or third jobs.”
As the tour came to an end, the minister replied: “Well, at least the cost of touring the stadium was reasonable.”
“Thank you,” said the tour guide, who was surrounded by five large guards carrying clubs. “Now each of you need to pay an exit fee of $50. Those new suites are not going to build themselves, you know.”
Monday, June 19, 2017
Laughter-the best Medicine
1. What did the duck say when she purchased lipstick? “Put it on my bill.”
2. What do you call a hyperactive number? A roamin’ numeral.
3. My wife asked me if her left rear turn signal was working. I went to the back of the car and answered: “Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no…”
4. When you see a guy open the car door for his wife it means either that he has a new car or a new wife.
5. Can a frog jump higher than the Empire State Building? Yes. The Empire State Building cannot jump at all.
6. What does Barack Obama call illegal immigrants? Undocumented democrats.
7. Why did the witches have to forfeit their baseball game? All their bats flew away.
8. A high school girl asked her gym instructor if she could teach her how to do the splits. “How flexible are you?” the instructor asked. The girl replied: “I can’t do Thursdays.”
9. Two young men were arrested yesterday. One had been drinking battery acid and the other was eating firecrackers. The police charged one of them and let the other one off.
10. Yesterday my mother-in-law fell down a wishing well. Heck, I didn’t know those things actually worked!
11. A sandwich walked into a bar. “Sorry,” said the bartender, “We don’t serve food in here.”
12. Two Eskimos in a kayak were freezing, so they started a fire in the boat. Unfortunately, they and the kayak soon sank into the water. The moral of the story is: You can’t have your kayak and heat it too.
13. A guy showed up two hours late for his job. “You should have been here at 8:30!” the boss screamed. “Why?” asked the guy. “What happened at 8:30?”
14. My wife and I were walking through the woods when we were confronted by a bear. “Slowly turn around and walk away,” I cautioned her. “Do not run. You cannot outrun a bear.” In a few seconds she sped past me. “You can’t outrun the bear!” I reminded her. “I’m not trying to outrun the bear, “she said. “I’m just trying to outrun you!”
15. There is a terrible punishment for bigamy-two mothers-in-law!
16. Evidently tennis was played back in Biblical days, for the Good Book says that Joseph served in Pharaoh’s court.
17. Although Bill was 45 years old, he had never married. No matter who he brought home, his mother didn’t like her. His pal made a suggestion: “Find somebody who is just like your mom and take her home.” It didn’t work-Dad didn’t like her.
18. My wife seems to have every advantage over me. She even has better in-laws than I do! (Just kidding - I have great in-laws).
19. I went to the store to buy a pair of camouflage pants but I couldn’t find any.
20. A police officer notified his superior: “A lady just shot her husband for stepping onto her recently mopped floor.” Supervisor: “Did you make an arrest?” Officer: “Not yet; the floor is still wet.”
2. What do you call a hyperactive number? A roamin’ numeral.
3. My wife asked me if her left rear turn signal was working. I went to the back of the car and answered: “Yes, no, yes, no, yes, no…”
4. When you see a guy open the car door for his wife it means either that he has a new car or a new wife.
5. Can a frog jump higher than the Empire State Building? Yes. The Empire State Building cannot jump at all.
6. What does Barack Obama call illegal immigrants? Undocumented democrats.
7. Why did the witches have to forfeit their baseball game? All their bats flew away.
8. A high school girl asked her gym instructor if she could teach her how to do the splits. “How flexible are you?” the instructor asked. The girl replied: “I can’t do Thursdays.”
9. Two young men were arrested yesterday. One had been drinking battery acid and the other was eating firecrackers. The police charged one of them and let the other one off.
10. Yesterday my mother-in-law fell down a wishing well. Heck, I didn’t know those things actually worked!
11. A sandwich walked into a bar. “Sorry,” said the bartender, “We don’t serve food in here.”
12. Two Eskimos in a kayak were freezing, so they started a fire in the boat. Unfortunately, they and the kayak soon sank into the water. The moral of the story is: You can’t have your kayak and heat it too.
13. A guy showed up two hours late for his job. “You should have been here at 8:30!” the boss screamed. “Why?” asked the guy. “What happened at 8:30?”
14. My wife and I were walking through the woods when we were confronted by a bear. “Slowly turn around and walk away,” I cautioned her. “Do not run. You cannot outrun a bear.” In a few seconds she sped past me. “You can’t outrun the bear!” I reminded her. “I’m not trying to outrun the bear, “she said. “I’m just trying to outrun you!”
15. There is a terrible punishment for bigamy-two mothers-in-law!
16. Evidently tennis was played back in Biblical days, for the Good Book says that Joseph served in Pharaoh’s court.
17. Although Bill was 45 years old, he had never married. No matter who he brought home, his mother didn’t like her. His pal made a suggestion: “Find somebody who is just like your mom and take her home.” It didn’t work-Dad didn’t like her.
18. My wife seems to have every advantage over me. She even has better in-laws than I do! (Just kidding - I have great in-laws).
19. I went to the store to buy a pair of camouflage pants but I couldn’t find any.
20. A police officer notified his superior: “A lady just shot her husband for stepping onto her recently mopped floor.” Supervisor: “Did you make an arrest?” Officer: “Not yet; the floor is still wet.”
Monday, June 5, 2017
Even our Dog thinks I'm a Terrible Cook
Except for an occasional barbecue my wife Bev handles most of the cooking. That’s by design; we share the workload but she enjoys preparing the meals. In that sense we make a perfect couple, for I love to eat what she cooks! Nevertheless, occasionally I do prepare a meal, but unfortunately, no one in the family believes that my food is worth eating.
Just the other day Bev criticized me for serving beer and pretzels as an appetizer. What’s wrong with that? Recently she said to a friend, “My husband dresses to kill, and he cooks the same way.” Furthermore, she made a bet with our son that my meatloaf would glow in the dark, and she threatened to use one of my pancakes as a Frisbee! That’s cruel!
That’s not all. She told some of her buddies that after eating one of my meals she doesn’t brush her teeth; instead she counts them! She did admit, however, that I make her feel like a goddess because every one of my meals is like a burnt offering!
Bev constantly reminds me to use a cookbook, but men don’t operate that way. A real man doesn’t ask for directions when he’s lost (a real man never admits that he is lost). Likewise, we depend upon our creativity and gut feelings when it comes to preparing something wonderful to devour.
“I don’t know about the creative part, but if gut size has anything to do with it, you should be whipping up some masterpieces,” my sassy spouse once said.
Whenever Bev cooks she places salt and pepper shakers on the table. When I do the honors she adds a large bottle of bicarbonate of soda. She has even threatened to put Pepto-Bismol on my cherry pie instead of whipped cream!
“Whenever I cook, the family members seem to stick around the kitchen. Just maybe they enjoy the aroma,” I argued.
“If they stick around the kitchen when you’re cooking it means you need to mop the floor now and then,” she responded.
Sadly, my wife exaggerates. Don’t believe her if she tells you that I burned the salad or that I use a smoke detector as an oven timer. The salad was just a tad wilted and I can’t help it if the smoke detector has a mind of its own!
She has grown tired of ordinary food such as peanut butter sandwiches, soup from a can, and frozen pizza, so the other day I went out of my way to prepare something special- calf tongue broiled in a sweet sauce!
“No way am I going to eat that!” she protested. “I don’t want anything that comes out of an animal’s mouth! That’s disgusting! Just make me some eggs.” Go figure.
I can take my wife’s insults. I can even put up with my son’s stories about my inedible macaroni and cheese, but sadly, even our dog has turned against me.
Whenever I go near the stove Fido begins a mournful howl, and sometimes during supper I drop a few morsels in his direction, but lately he has been throwing them back!
In an effort to fool the mutt I mixed some of my meatloaf with his dog chow. Being none the wiser, he gobbled it down, but then for the next half hour he furiously groomed himself.
“Why is he doing that?” I asked.
My smarty-pants spouse, not missing a beat, replied, “He’s trying to get the taste out of his mouth.”
Do you think they are trying to tell me something?
Just the other day Bev criticized me for serving beer and pretzels as an appetizer. What’s wrong with that? Recently she said to a friend, “My husband dresses to kill, and he cooks the same way.” Furthermore, she made a bet with our son that my meatloaf would glow in the dark, and she threatened to use one of my pancakes as a Frisbee! That’s cruel!
That’s not all. She told some of her buddies that after eating one of my meals she doesn’t brush her teeth; instead she counts them! She did admit, however, that I make her feel like a goddess because every one of my meals is like a burnt offering!
Bev constantly reminds me to use a cookbook, but men don’t operate that way. A real man doesn’t ask for directions when he’s lost (a real man never admits that he is lost). Likewise, we depend upon our creativity and gut feelings when it comes to preparing something wonderful to devour.
“I don’t know about the creative part, but if gut size has anything to do with it, you should be whipping up some masterpieces,” my sassy spouse once said.
Whenever Bev cooks she places salt and pepper shakers on the table. When I do the honors she adds a large bottle of bicarbonate of soda. She has even threatened to put Pepto-Bismol on my cherry pie instead of whipped cream!
“Whenever I cook, the family members seem to stick around the kitchen. Just maybe they enjoy the aroma,” I argued.
“If they stick around the kitchen when you’re cooking it means you need to mop the floor now and then,” she responded.
Sadly, my wife exaggerates. Don’t believe her if she tells you that I burned the salad or that I use a smoke detector as an oven timer. The salad was just a tad wilted and I can’t help it if the smoke detector has a mind of its own!
She has grown tired of ordinary food such as peanut butter sandwiches, soup from a can, and frozen pizza, so the other day I went out of my way to prepare something special- calf tongue broiled in a sweet sauce!
“No way am I going to eat that!” she protested. “I don’t want anything that comes out of an animal’s mouth! That’s disgusting! Just make me some eggs.” Go figure.
I can take my wife’s insults. I can even put up with my son’s stories about my inedible macaroni and cheese, but sadly, even our dog has turned against me.
Whenever I go near the stove Fido begins a mournful howl, and sometimes during supper I drop a few morsels in his direction, but lately he has been throwing them back!
In an effort to fool the mutt I mixed some of my meatloaf with his dog chow. Being none the wiser, he gobbled it down, but then for the next half hour he furiously groomed himself.
“Why is he doing that?” I asked.
My smarty-pants spouse, not missing a beat, replied, “He’s trying to get the taste out of his mouth.”
Do you think they are trying to tell me something?
Tuesday, May 23, 2017
At least in the Airline Industry, Common Sense isn'y very Common
At least in the Airline Industry, Common Sense isn’t very Common
Recently the airline industry has been in the news, but not in ways that it would want. Paid customers being forcibly removed from planes, fistfights, and some downright silly rules being enforced have many of us wondering if it’s possible these days to “fly the friendly skies,” as a TV commercial once proclaimed.
I don’t have any proof, but I’m guessing that some of these silly airline rules were invented by committees, for such groups are famous (infamous?) for making over-the-top decisions. What is remarkable, however, is that evidently not one person in any such committee had an ounce of what we erringly term “common sense.” Sadly, perhaps even if someone had spoken up the results would have been the same.
Imagine the head of an airline committee proclaiming: “Here’s what we’ll do; as you know, there are big bucks to be made in overbooking, so once the seats are full and we discover that, say, we need to get a crew of four to its destination, we will initially offer a substantial amount of money to anyone who will give up their seats. Yes, Smith?”
“Excuse me, sir, but what will we do if no one on board will take the deal?”
“You must have been asleep, Smith. The committee decided that in such a case we will make those seats available by using brute force.”
“Sir, do you mean we will drag paying customers off the plane?”
“Of course.”
“Do we need such bad publicity, sir?”
“What bad publicity? The public will understand our needs; they’ll back us just like the democrats would back the president if say, he fired the head of the FBI.”
“I’m afraid that using force against our customers would be on the national news; even little kids these days have their own cell phones.”
“You worry too much, Smith. The news media has better things to do than to worry about some isolated incident aboard a jetliner. The press is busy covering the important news of the day, like President Trump getting two scoops of ice cream for dessert while each of his guests only gets one.”
”I’m afraid, sir, that we will be painted as bullies.”
“Nonsense. Do you have any better ideas?”
“Well, sir, instead of dragging passengers off the plane, we could send the crew to its destination on a rival airline.”
“We’d never hear the end of that one. The other guys would advertise that they are so good that even we fly with them! That would be a disaster!”
“We could hire a pilot and a small plane.”
“Balderdash! That would make us look weak. John Wayne wouldn’t rent a small plane, he’d simply throw out the bums who wouldn’t cooperate, Pilgrim!”
“How about renting a car and a driver?”
“Then it would look like we preferred land travel over air transportation.”
“With all due respect, sir, if you carry out this committee’s decision our company will receive tons of negative publicity, we’ll be paying millions of dollars to settle suits, and you executives will be called into Congress to be castigated!”
“I’d love that! I’d get to be on TV and maybe I’d even get to meet Nancy Pelosi!”
“I’m sorry if I offended anyone, sir, but I figured it was my duty to speak up.”
“That’s okay, Smith. It takes a brave man to admit when he’s wrong. All right, ladies and gentleman, next we vote on Rule 27X, stating that once we are ready for takeoff any passenger needing to go to the restroom will have to use a paper cup!”
Recently the airline industry has been in the news, but not in ways that it would want. Paid customers being forcibly removed from planes, fistfights, and some downright silly rules being enforced have many of us wondering if it’s possible these days to “fly the friendly skies,” as a TV commercial once proclaimed.
I don’t have any proof, but I’m guessing that some of these silly airline rules were invented by committees, for such groups are famous (infamous?) for making over-the-top decisions. What is remarkable, however, is that evidently not one person in any such committee had an ounce of what we erringly term “common sense.” Sadly, perhaps even if someone had spoken up the results would have been the same.
Imagine the head of an airline committee proclaiming: “Here’s what we’ll do; as you know, there are big bucks to be made in overbooking, so once the seats are full and we discover that, say, we need to get a crew of four to its destination, we will initially offer a substantial amount of money to anyone who will give up their seats. Yes, Smith?”
“Excuse me, sir, but what will we do if no one on board will take the deal?”
“You must have been asleep, Smith. The committee decided that in such a case we will make those seats available by using brute force.”
“Sir, do you mean we will drag paying customers off the plane?”
“Of course.”
“Do we need such bad publicity, sir?”
“What bad publicity? The public will understand our needs; they’ll back us just like the democrats would back the president if say, he fired the head of the FBI.”
“I’m afraid that using force against our customers would be on the national news; even little kids these days have their own cell phones.”
“You worry too much, Smith. The news media has better things to do than to worry about some isolated incident aboard a jetliner. The press is busy covering the important news of the day, like President Trump getting two scoops of ice cream for dessert while each of his guests only gets one.”
”I’m afraid, sir, that we will be painted as bullies.”
“Nonsense. Do you have any better ideas?”
“Well, sir, instead of dragging passengers off the plane, we could send the crew to its destination on a rival airline.”
“We’d never hear the end of that one. The other guys would advertise that they are so good that even we fly with them! That would be a disaster!”
“We could hire a pilot and a small plane.”
“Balderdash! That would make us look weak. John Wayne wouldn’t rent a small plane, he’d simply throw out the bums who wouldn’t cooperate, Pilgrim!”
“How about renting a car and a driver?”
“Then it would look like we preferred land travel over air transportation.”
“With all due respect, sir, if you carry out this committee’s decision our company will receive tons of negative publicity, we’ll be paying millions of dollars to settle suits, and you executives will be called into Congress to be castigated!”
“I’d love that! I’d get to be on TV and maybe I’d even get to meet Nancy Pelosi!”
“I’m sorry if I offended anyone, sir, but I figured it was my duty to speak up.”
“That’s okay, Smith. It takes a brave man to admit when he’s wrong. All right, ladies and gentleman, next we vote on Rule 27X, stating that once we are ready for takeoff any passenger needing to go to the restroom will have to use a paper cup!”
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