During the American Revolution, to symbolize the casting off of British rule, the lyrics were stripped from the song “God Save The King” and changed to “My Country Tis Of Thee.”
Canadians, being a part of the British Commonwealth, still sing the original version.
This makes for some interesting situations at karaoke bars on the border.
Put enough drinks in the crowd, fire up the tune, and you’ll get both sides trying to shout each other down.
Sometimes, a fight breaks out. People get hurt, glasses and chairs and tables get broken.
And the Mexican laborers sweep up the damage.
Category: My stories
Writing Cap
Sometimes, I get too busy to write during the day, and my notepad is blank.
So, as I’m stumbling off to bed, I put on my Writing Cap, drink a glass of Creative Juices, and go to sleep.
The Writing Cap is supposed to pick up my brainwaves, translate them into stories, and feed them to my cell phone via Bluetooth.
Instead, it irritates my scalp and makes my hair fall out quicker.
The Creative Juices cause gut-wrenchingly awful constipation.
I call that writer’s block in the worst possible way.
(At least it’s wireless. No more strangling on the cords.)
Dumped
Missy broke up with her latest?
Didn’t she say this was The One?
He was perfect. They were perfect together.
All that lovey-dovey crap on her Facebook and shit?
Yeah, I thought so.
So, The One dumped her. Like all the rest.
Man, what a shame.
That makes how many this year?
I don’t know either. I lost count at ten.
Remember The Price Is Right?
Yeah, the game show.
They had a mountain climber game.
He’d yodel all the way up the mountain.
The more wrong you were, the louder and higher he got.
Higher… louder… higher…
Then… splat.
Donut Day
It is National Donut Day.
Even though I’m on a diet, I bought a donut.
It was only 85 cents, and I carried the bag through the park, to my office, and put it on my desk.
Then, I pinned it to the wall and left it there for the entire day.
At the end of the day, I looked at the bag and realized I hadn’t eaten the donut.
This is not a credit to my willpower, because I wasn’t able to resist 4 grab-bags of Cheet-o’s and Dorito’s.
I just forgot I pinned the fuckin thing up there.
Cords
I have no sympathy for people who forget their laptop power cords.
I plan ahead, so I’ve got a spare cord at work, and one at home.
Plus, there’s one in my laptop bag, so I’m never without a power cord for my laptop.
Then, there’s the four cords I keep in this van.
Those are the ones I tied you up with after you whined about forgetting your power cord.
Scream all you want. It has soundproofed walls.
Sure, I could strangle you with the power cord in my laptop bag, but I prefer to use my bare hands.
Bloomberg
The elevator groaned under the weight of the morbidly obese passengers inside.
*BING*
The doors opened, and the mayor, pinned to the wall, squeezed his way out into the hallway.
He sighed, dashed out a quick note, and headed to the press room.
Dozens of fat reporters, tossing questions at him.
“SHUT UP!” he shouted. “SHUT THE HELL UP!”
Everyone went silent.
“AS OF NOW, NO MORE SUPER SIZED SUGAR BEVERAGES! SMALLER PORTION SIZES IN RESTAURANTS! WE’RE GONNA GET FUCKIN’ HEALTHY!”
The mayor’s decree took effect, and people just got fatter.
Because they order two of the smaller portions now.
Back in the high life
Warren was a musician. His fame had waned, but his loyal fans in every town would pack the small clubs he’d play in.
His last tour was an experimental solo project. He left his band back at home, and he went from club to club, just an amplifier and a microphone.
It was a hit with the fans, and so that’s all he did until the day he died.
Fans showed up at the club he was scheduled to play that night, his guitar and hat on a dimly-lit stage, a single spotlight.
And they still tour to this day.
The Temple
There are 100 steps up the hill to get to The Temple Of The Golden Monkey.
At each step, acolytes are challenged by the monks to tell a story 100 words long.
“You have a week to come up with one!” shouts the temple priest.
Upon hearing the acolyte’s story, the monks invite that student to take a step up.
But if an acolyte fails to tell a story, they are sent back down the hill to return to their village.
Or try again.
It takes almost two years to ascend the steps and become a monk.
Ready?
Then begin!
Parallel Universe
In the parallel universe
Everyone is evil
And Spock has a beard
If Spock were a practical joker
He’d buy a false beard
And wear it every so often
So that when Kirk saw him
He’d think he was the Evil Spock
And then Spock would pull it off
And laugh.
But Spock is a Vulcan
Vulcans have no emotions
Or sense of humor
So the odds of Spock
Actually making a joke
Are incredibly small
Spock would say they are zero
But he knows the exact odds
To the fifteenth decimal place
Because he’s a scientist
And a nerd.
The Fallen Rise Up
Veteran’s Day is for the living soldiers, and they march in parades.
Memorial Day is for the fallen ones, and we go to the cemeteries to put wreaths and flags on their graves.
This wasn’t enough for the witchdoctor, who poured a strange bubbling concoction into the fertilizer bin of the automatic sprinkler system at Arlington National Cemetery.
The timer went off at midnight, by the next morning, our nation’s finest and bravest were roaming the cemetery, shambling around and moaning “BRAAAAAAAAAAAAINS! BRAAAAAAAAAAAAINS!”
Except for Ted Kennedy’s corpse, who had commandeered a maintenance cart, and driven it into the Potomac.