Got Jesus?

651070

Yesterday, as the Missus and I were on our way to dinner, we saw a car in front of us with a decal in the rear window: Got Jesus?
It was clear, based on its design, that the decal was Yet Another Ripoff of the well-known “Got Milk?” advertising campaign, the one featuring celebrities sporting Milk Moustaches.
The Missus asked: When you Get Jesus, do you get a Jesus Moustache? And if you do, what color is it?
I’m no expert, but I’d say that between Ash Wednesday and Easter, you have a purple mustache…but on Easter, it turns white.

Alarming behavior

393251

Typical alarm clocks can be turned off with a single button.
On the other hand, the alarm clock function on my cell phone requires me to hit… let’s see: 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 buttons.
Of course, there’s the much simpler option to press and hold the power button to turn the phone completely off before the alarm sounds.
I suppose that’s why I pulled out my phone at 10:30 today and it’s completely off.
Which is why I got a watch. To tell time when my cell phone is off.
This is how my mind works. Or, in this case, fails to work.

Below Average

662518

Unlike our neighbors’ kids, all of the children in Lake Whybehere are below average. They’re all good children, but just a little behind the curve. A few seconds late off the starting blocks in the game of life.
Their conversations are enthusiastic, but babble. Their play is confused and often ends in medical treatment.
Most suffer from lethargy, but a few demonstrate occasional spunkiness. Like running in circles with scissors faster than usual.
Maybe there’s something in the water. The power plant dumps an awful lot of crap into Lake Whybehere.
Perhaps we’ll dump it in Wobegone from now on.

The Successful Rodent

662052

It happened that there were two mouse-brothers.
Life was hard for these mice. Vicious cats roamed the neighborhood; other animals constantly made life difficult.
There was the duck, all harsh voice and shrill temper.
There were the dogs. One, though he could speak the language of people, was so dimwitted as to be a danger to himself and others. The other was, after all, a dog, and what dog does not enjoy sport with helpless mice?
It all changed when brother Mickey, after lengthy study, procured a Steamboat Operator’s License.
Moral: Wish upon a star, my ass. Study to succeed!

Enough

688075

My people, they are a stiff-necked people.
Been that way for thousands of years. Back in the Sinai days, Moses had it all figured out. You think he climbed up Mount Nebo to die, giving up on his dream to enter the Promised Land just because God told him to?
Think again.
He simply couldn’t stand any more of the constant bitching, whining, and nagging.
“It was better back in Egypt.” “This manna sucks! I want meat!” “I’m thirsty!” “We’re all gonna die!
So Moses said, “Enough, already!”
Can’t say I blame him. Other people may complain, but Jews harp.

Where there’s smoke, there’s Walter

477071

The old saying goes “Where there’s smoke, there’s fire.”
Around here, it goes “Where there’s smoke, there’s Walter.”
Walter smokes. Walter smokes a lot.
I can’t remember any time when I’ve seen Walter not smoking.
Once, I saw Walter asleep at a bar, and his hand reached into his mouth, pulled out his exhausted cigarette, stubbed it out in the ashtray, pulled another from his pack, lit it, and stuck it in his mouth.
Which is why I opened up the coffin and stuck a cigarette in his mouth.
How was I to know someone had dowsed him in gasoline?

Div

545273

Andrew Ian Dodge tells the vicious tale of Div…

Div was thrown a curve when he learned Robbie Williams was coming back to Take That. His killing spree the last time was after the singer left the group. He did it to keep TT going after Williams left the fold. His only hope is that Robbie was not “Back for Good’ so he could kill again. Div was upset; he so enjoyed his murdering; it gave him a thrill so missing in his life. Frustrated Div tossed the balled up paper into the fire…as his last victim burnt to a crisp. This bottle of gasoline had seen to that.

Written In Rock

462368

Don’t believe Rick Springfield’s lies when he sings “Nothing’s written in rock.”
Some things are written in rock. And they do last forever.
It’s when things are written in ice cream that they don’t last.
Sure, that gigantic two-ton fudge sundae that says “Happy birthday, Morty” on the side looks like it could survive a Japanese invasion fleet, but the truth is that it can barely withstand the coordinated assault of a kindergarten class armed with nothing but spoons and their appetites.
In fact, that’s what Pearl Harbor was supposed to be, until the Japs realized that children don’t explode.

Lost

610471

Eldrick was furious.
He had recently scored a set of classic persimmon-head clubs. Not for work, he had told himself. Never for work. These beauties are for pleasure.
Their heads glowed with a deep varnished luster, the brass screws set perfectly flush. Four gorgeous clubs: driver, brassie, cleek, and spoon. Products of a bygone age.
And now they were missing.
How can they be missing? he asked himself. How many golf club thieves can there be at an Oceanographic Institute on the south shore of Cape Cod?
Eldrick groaned, thinking of the headlines. “Woods Loses Woods at Woods (Hole).” Crap.

Take That

546068

Andrew Ian Dodge tells another tale to the music…

He watched the fire burn bright; on his iPod was Take That’s Relight My Fire. He never thought he would be back doing his tribute to the boys. It took him from the time of the reunion announcement until their first gig to decide how he would restart his tribute. Would he kill aging TT fans or young girls like the last time? Would his failed pursuers figure out he had returned? Teenage girls are far more newsworthy than older women. The song ended and he headed away from the still burning body…looking forward to next date on their tour.