If you’ve ever said “Nothing ruins a movie more than a screaming baby,” you should look at the headlines coming out of Colorado this morning.
That’s right: someone brought a 3-month-old baby to a midnight showing of the final movie in the Batman trilogy.
Don’t you hate it when that happens?
It totally ruins the movie.
And if you call the ushers in on them, you end up looking like an asshole.
“We can’t find a babysitter this late at night!” they whine.
Why are they bringing a baby to a midnight showing in the first place?
That’s just sick.
Category: My stories
Cripple the cripple
Gordon Kane bet Stephen Hawking $100 that the Higgs-Boson exists.
And won, but despite acknowledging this, Stephen Hawking has yet to pay up.
How do you collect on that kind of bet?
It’s not like you can call your cousins from New Jersey into leaning on the guy.
“So, you think you’re some kind of smart guy?” your cousin Lenny says, and then he realizes, yes, this cripple in the wheelchair with the robot voice talking about black holes and galaxies is really damn smart.
At least he can’t put up much of a fight when they break his legs.
Improbable
There’s a big difference between improbable and impossible.
No matter how improbable it is, Henry still managed to get chased by a herd of angry elephants across campus and into the Chemistry final exam.
Impossible is explaining to the professor how he managed to get chased by a herd of angry elephants across campus and into the Chemistry final exam.
“And more importantly, why did you bring them here?” asks the professor.
“You lock the door at nine,” Henry says. “And I didn’t want to miss the final.”
The professor nods, mutters “Fair enough” and hands out the blue books.
The Y
Unlike the Catholic Church, we here at the Y act quickly when we discover an employee behaving in a disgusting manner with a child or doing something inappropriate, like collecting child pornography.
It doesn’t happen very often, because we have a screening process and keep our staff under observation. Nobody is ever left alone with a child.
Plus, when one is caught, we don’t sweep them under the rug like the Church does.
We bury them under the baseball field.
By the way, the pitcher’s mound is getting a bit high. Better dig it up and quicklime the corpses again.
Until I Fall Away
We tried to use music to teach Calculon creativity and inventiveness.
We failed. All it did was reproduce the same sound, over and over.
So, we tried improvisational jazz.
Calculon reproduced that, too.
“Maybe we should use live concerts instead of studio albums?” I asked.
After Calculon copied the live albums, we made a few calls and loaded it into a truck.
We joined the Gin Blossoms tour.
At first, to observe. But in time, Calculon picked up on the “magic” of live concerts and picked up a guitar to jam.
Then it did a stage-dive and crushed 4 fans.
Stampede
At our retirement community, we have just as many weddings as funerals.
Because when someone dies, someone else rushes to marry the widow or widower.
“Married people live longer,” the studies say, “And if your mate dies, you’ll go soon after.”
Nobody here wants to go without a fight. So, the moment there’s an opening, those who haven’t already paired up rush to the side of the bereaved to offer their sympathies.
It’s like a stampede. A dangerous, wrinkled stampede.
So, unless you put on a wedding ring, I can’t give you the nurse job.
It’s just not safe here.
Too much of an mmmm mmmm good thing…
I’ve gotten into the habit of bringing cans of soup to work for lunch.
“It’s good food,” the commercials say. “Mmmm mmmmm good!”
But instead of following the directions, I pour two cans into a single bowl, stir it up, and heat it without adding water.
It’s just as thick as the chunky style soup, I figure. And cheaper, too.
And I don’t have to fish about for the vegetables and noodles as much.
That’s when it hits me… my stomach… my guts… too much!
Help me throw it up, or I’ll die of an overdose of Mmmmm mmmmm goodness!
Toot
I’ve often been accused of tooting my own horn too much.
This is an outrage!
Unlike others, who do it out in public, I have the decency to reserve a rehearsal room for my tooting sessions.
The more I practice, the better I get.
Or, are they accusing me of not letting others toot my horn?
Why would I let them do that? I paid for it, It’s mine. Mine!
And just the thought of your lips on my mouthpiece. Ewwwwww! Grosssss!
Toot your own damn horn! Leave mine alone!
Now I have to boil the damn thing, you bastards!
The Cats Love
I wake up early for work. My wife wakes up late.
By the time she gets home from work, I’m either asleep or falling asleep.
We rarely see each other during the week.
The cats love this arrangement. It means they have someone around almost all of the time to beg for treats.
We don’t, but until we win the lottery or get jobs with better schedules, it’s how things are.
I go to sleep, hugging a pillow, and when my wife wakes me up, I hand it to her.
It smells like both of us.
The cats love it.
… and a salad!
My doctor says I need to eat more salad.
Romaine lettuce and onions, and a whole lot of different kinds of beans.
I like lots of different kinds of beans in my salad.
So, I open the cans of beans, dump them out into a colander, wash them off, and shake the colander to mix up the beans.
When the beans are nice and mixed, I dump them out into a few plastic containers and stick them in the fridge.
They’re ready for when I really want a salad.
Which is never, I think, as I drive to the steakhouse.