Studies with burn patients showed that engaging the patient with music helped reduce the need for pain medications during bandage changes, and the patients recovered faster.
As a result, the hospital needed less medication and nurses to deliver it and monitor patient progress, which led to significant cost-savings.
That was until the RIAA had talks with the drug companies and the nurse’s union.
Lobbyists got Congress to require a prescription for purchasing music.
Apple and Amazon were delighted to raise prices for downloads and cloud-streaming.
This isn’t a piano. It’s a fancy bar table.
See? No hammers.
Totally legal, man.
Category: My stories
A Good Magician
I love doing my magic act for the kids.
After all these years the tux still fits me, although it and my cape, hat, and wand look a bit worse for wear.
And then there’s Pete, my bunny.
How long do they live?
Because I’ve had him for over thirty years.
No trick here: rabbit food, the occasional carrot or radish as a treat, and free reign of the house.
Perhaps he’s magical? Or some kind of government superbunny.
I offer him a carrot. “Are you a secret superbunny, Pete?”
Pete is silent.
A good magician never reveals his tricks.
Chinese Arch
If you built an arch and had every Chinese person line up and march under it at a rate of one person per second, the line would never end.
But why would you do such a silly thing? What good does marching people in a line do?
And even if you managed to build the arch, I highly doubt that you could convince every Chinese person to line up and march under it.
The Chinese have better things to do than march under an arch forever.
They’re to busy planning to jump all at the same time…
Oh no… EARTHQUAKE!
Arby’s
When I was growing up, I loved the Beef And Cheddars at Arby’s, but after a few bad experiences, I haven’t been back in a very long time.
Everybody I ask says the same thing.
They used to go to Arby’s, but they don’t anymore.
“How do they stay open?” someone asks.
So, we checked the web for a store near to our office and drove there for lunch.
There was nobody in there.
We looked around, shouted HELLO, but nobody answered.
That’s when I noticed the crate with Russian stenciled on it.
And a folder full of invasion plans.
Stags Of The Star
Human Resources warned us: “Chris isn’t feeling well.”
Instead of his usual attire, Chris came into the office wearing a loincloth and feathered headdress, and he tapped my desk with a golden scepter.
“KNEEL BEFORE CHRISOCOATL!” he boomed.
I figured what the heck, so I kneeled.
“ARE YOU VENTURING TO THE STAGS OF THE STAR?”
Stags Of The Star? Stags…
Starbucks?
“I will journey forth and bring back plenty,” I said.
By the time I got back with everybody’s coffee order, he’d torn the heart out of the receptionist.
I took five bucks from her purse to cover her double-latte.
Your Mission
After listening to the tape describe a nightmare Doomsday scenario facing the world, Jim listened to his mission, and then pondered whether he should accept it or not.
Before the tape had self-destructed in a whiff of smoke, Jim had made his decision:
No.
Instead, he went fishing, and caught a pair of trout that grilled up nicely.
Finishing his beer, he turned on the television to watch the news.
Just a tone and a test pattern.
It was on every channel.
Jim figured the new regime would probably hire him.
He hoped that his retirement plan would roll over.
Test Drive
One of the drawbacks to owning an electric car is that you can’t leave it running in a closed garage to suffocate yourself.
However, you can still drive it off of a cliff, assuming there’s any cliffs around. Or ram it into a tree without wearing a seat belt, assuming that you have a control or switch that will disable the airbags.
I’m not sure that you can drive it into a lake to drown. Does it float? I’m not sure. Perhaps you could add some cinderblocks to the trunk.
So, want to take it for a test drive now?
Alive!
After our daughter died, the neighbors came by to express their condolences.
And they brought a large number of covered dishes.
So many so, that I sketched up a few plans, converted the basement to an elaborate and functional mad scientist’s lab to bring all this tuna noodle casserole to life.
Sure enough, the moment my wife threw the switch, the noodle-creature rose up and moaned: “Mommy! Daddy!”
The neighbors heard about our experiment, and arrived at the door with torches and pitchforks.
“Please stop playing God,” they said. “And we want our Corningware back if you’re done with it.”
You’ve Got Mail
It’s been 20 years since I‘ve had an AOL account, but wherever I go, I always set up that “You’ve got mail!” to my new mail sound.
Oh, sure… I’ve had fun sounds like “Message for you, sir!” from Monty Python and The Holy Grail, where the page gets hit with an arrow to the chest with a message on it, but it doesn’t take long for me to yearn for that classic AOL sound again.
It doesn’t really matter, though. These days, it’s all IMs and Tweets and Facebook Pokes.
E-mail’s as dead as the Post Office it killed.
Where The Wild Things Aren’t
The night Max wore his wolf suit
And made mischief of one kind or another
His mother called him WILD THING!
And Max said “I’ll eat you up!”
While sending Max to his room
His mother had a stroke and collapsed
Max stood there, confused
He tried to wake up his mother
But she didn’t move at all
So, Max picked up the telephone
And called the emergency number.
They arrived a few minutes later
Put his mother on a stretcher
Covered her with a sheet
And took her away.
Child Services picked up Max
He never wore costumes again