Tag: silly

Magic Compass

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My magic compass doesn’t point to North.
Instead, it points to Texas.
Wherever I am, it tells me which direction Texas is in.
It’s not terribly useful as a navigation device, but it’s a great conversation piece.
“How does it work?”
“Why Texas?”
“Where did you get it?”
Not only does it point to Texas, but it also points out Texans.
When a Texan sees this thing, they can’t help but smile.
Sometimes, they whoop.
I don’t think that’s a part of the magic of the compass, though.
Compass or not, Texans tend to be annoyingly proud of their state.

Goliath’s Fall

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It was the final battle.
For all the shekels.
Goliath never knew what hit him, that dumb son of a bitch.
One moment, he was waving his war club around and rallying the troops.
All of the sudden, a rock hits him in the skull.
The giant didn’t even say “OUCH!”
His eyes took on that thousand-cubit stare and he toppled like a broken column.
A minute later, his lieutenant arrived, breathlessly apologizing to his commander for his tardiness.
“You really should keep your pack mule better organized,” he muttered. “It took me forever to find your helmet.”
“Sir? Sir?”

A Swinging Bad Time

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You’ll have to forgive me for not replying to your email.
You see, I’ve got one of those laptops with a fingerprint reader.
The problem is, I cut my finger in the kitchen while chopping up lettuce for salad.
Now the laptop doesn’t know who I am.
There’s an option to use the password, but it’s been so long since I’ve used a password for my laptop, I can’t remember my password.
So I went to a hypnotist, and he swung a watch in front of my eyes for an hour.
But all I could recall was “A swinging watch.”

Hopping Mad

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After a year in the hospice, columnist Art Buchwald died and his spirit went to Heaven.
However, when he arrived, he still only had one leg.
“Where is my other leg?” asked Art.
“We’re not sure,” said Saint Peter. “We’ve checked the warehouses, but there’s a huge backlog in inventory. Plus, there’s a problem with routing issues these days.”
After a brief discussion, they gave Art a set of canes and told him to come back in six months.
Sure, Art had a set of wings like everyone else, but landings can be a real bitch with just one leg.

Brassy

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I sat down on my welcome mat and stared at the bizarre doorknob on my front door.
The old brass fixture had been replaced with the talking animated doorknob from Alice In Wonderland.
And it didn’t want to open.
I waved a key in front of its eyes.
“This is the key to my house,” I said. “Now open the door.”
“That key’s dirty!” said the doorknob. “Clean it first!”
“I’ve got nothing to clean it with,” I said. “Open wide.”
“I’ll bite your fingers off!” it threatened, snapping its teeth.
I really need to cut back on the acid.

Yankee Blonde

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Sally wasn’t just stupid, but dead-dumb solid-rock stupid.
She was also a blonde, so her smart friends tried an experiment.
You know the old joke where artificial intelligence is where you dye a blonde’s hair black?
Well, they tried it with Sally.
They made her take off her favorite ballcap, then she washed her hair and dyed it dark.
Sure enough, she wasn’t dumb anymore.
Not quite a genius, but certainly smarter than before.
When her hair was dry enough, she put her trusty New York Yankees cap back on.
And, sure enough, she was the same old moron again.

Remember To Forget

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“You have one wish left,” said the genie.
“Huh?” I said.
Where am I? What’s going on?
I was standing in an alleyway, dirty lamp in my hand with a genie sticking out of it.
“What do you mean ‘one wish left?'” I asked. “Did I have others?”
“Yes,” said the genie. “You had three.”
“Did I?” I said, scratching my head. “I don’t remember that at all. Jesus, I wish I could remember what I wished for.”
The genie vanished, and I remembered that my second wish was to forget my first.
I wish I could forget it again.

Cutting Through Grease

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George pulled a DVD from the shelf, opened the case, and poured dishwashing liquid all over it.
He watched the goo spread over the disk.
His wife walked into the room.
“What do you think you’re doing?” she said.
“What does it look like I’m doing?” said George. “I’m trying to cut through Grease.”
“You’ll do anything to get out of doing the dishes,” said George’s wife.
“Not really,” said George. “For instance: I won’t clean the toilets.”
George tried the experiment on Grease 2, and to his amazement, it split.
“Well, it was a weak movie,” said his wife.

Mister Thimble

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When I was little, I’d play Monopoly with my family.
They took the cool pieces, like the dog and the shoe.
All that was left was the hat and the thimble.
So, I put the hat on top of the thimble and called it Mister Thimble.
We were a team, Mister Thimble and I. Best of friends.
He still is my friend. I carry him everywhere.
Late at night, we talk about things.
Sometimes, we talk about you.
I like you, but Mister Thimble doesn’t like you.
Don’t say that Mister Thimble isn’t real.
He’s right here, watching you sleep.

Miles And Miles

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Joe says when you dream of flying, you’re dreaming of sex.
When I ask him if dreaming of sex represents flying, he says “I’m not sure. Maybe.”
Then, when I ask him of what dreaming of having sex while flying is, he says “Maybe you’re dreaming of the Mile High Club.”
I asked him if there’s a “Mile Under Club” for people in really deep mines or in submarines or a “Mile Long Club” for people screwing in an RV or on a flatbed trailer.”
“Don’t forget a bus,” he said.
Yuck. Who’d want to screw someone on a bus?