Open the door

They open the doors and call out a name that isn’t mine.
They open the doors and call out another name that isn’t mine.
Over and over, they open the doors and call out names that aren’t mine.
Why won’t they call my name?
Why won’t they help me?
Why are they letting me suffer in pain?
Why are they making me suffer in pain?
They open the doors and call out a name that isn’t mine.
The pain is too much to take.
I can’t even remember my name.
The door opens, and I scream until I pass out.


I bought a smartwatch.
It looks really cool.
Sure, it’s clunky and heavy on my wrist, and I have to charge it every night, but it looks cool.
The metal band gets caught in my arm hair, and it rips out hairs all day long.
Still, it looks cool.
It quietly displays alerts for new email and appointments and meetings.
Too bad that I forget to mute my smartphone, which blares out all sorts of beeps and ringtones at the worst times.
So, sure, it looks really cool.
Sitting there on its charger.
No way I’m putting it on again.


Turn on your pad.
Put in your buds.
Surf, read, listen.
You can do it all.
Everything’s online.
Information, books, music.
It’s all there.
If it’s not online, it doesn’t exist.
Newspapers? Gone.
Libraries? Gone.
Records? Tapes? CDs? Gone.
Money, too. That’s all online.
Everything’s online.
You know the rules:
If it’s on paper, it’s bad.
Put it online.
Makes it so much easier to manage.
For you, and us.
We can make the news better for you.
We can make the music better for you.
We can make everything better for you.
We can make you better for us.

The last time

I can’t remember the last time it snowed.
Oh, it gets cold here.
And it rains.
But it never snows.
“Why doesn’t it snow here?” I asked my mother.
But she doesn’t know why.
“Ask your father,” she says.
He didn’t know either.
My teachers didn’t know.
Father William didn’t know.
Nobody knows.
So, I walked North.
For miles and miles.
I thought I’d walk until I reached the North Pole.
But I got tired.
So, I called home.
My parents picked me up.
Drove me home.
Put me to bed.
And when I fell asleep.
I dreamed of snow.

Nightmare bell

There are two locks on our front door.
One is a normal lock, and the other is a deadbolt.
You can’t disengage the deadbolt from outside, so I’m not supposed to lock it when I get home from work.
Otherwise, Gina can’t get in when she gets home.
We have a note by the deadbolt… DO NOT LOCK THIS.
But sometimes, I forget. And Gina gets locked out.
She rings the doorbell over and over again.
Until I wake up and unlock the door.
I should do that more often, because it’s actually useful for interrupting whatever nightmare I’m having.


A lot of people wanted George Zimmerman dead, so he fled to South America.
He enrolled in a second-rate medical school. A few years later, George had a new name, a new face, and a diploma.
By then, Obamacare had driven a lot of family doctors out of business, so George saw an opportunity to return.
He set up an abortion clinic in a poor black neighborhood.
The same people who had wanted him dead now called him a community resource.
The way he saw it, he could kill black children and be paid for it. Legally.
Isn’t life strange?

Joke File

Comedian Buddy Buster spent a lot of time writing jokes.
He put them on notecards and organized them in a card file.
Over time, the card file grew large enough to take up several filing cabinets.
He bought a white van so he could drive from gig to gig with his props, his wardrobe, and those joke files.
And record albums and tapes to sell after each of his shows.
One night, car thieves stole his van, but they were Buddy’s fans, and returned it with a note of apology.
They even filled the gas tank and got it washed.

Bernie’s Bagels

Welcome to Bernie’s Bagels.
My name is Bernie, but I’m not the Bernie in Bernie’s Bagels.
That was my grandfather Bernie.
And he made bagels.
He left the business to his son Bernie.
He’s my dad.
And then he left the business to me.
I have a son named Bernie.
And I plan to leave the business to him.
Now that I think of it, my great-grandfather was named Bernie.
So, maybe my grandfather named the business after him.
I don’t know, though. They’re dead.
So is my father.
One day, I will be.
But Bernie’s Bagels will live on.

Tinny Treadmill Time

I walk on a treadmill every morning.
Either it’s the treadmill at home, or the treadmill in the gym at work.
If my cat Tinny is sleeping on me, I don’t like to wake her up.
So, I let her sleep a while longer.
Then, I go to work in my workout clothes, walk on the treadmill there, shower, and change.
I can even charge my phone with the port on the treadmill.
The home treadmill has a television, while I listen to music on the work treadmill.
As long and I walk in the morning, it doesn’t matter, really.

Splashing end

Glinda told Dorothy that she could have used the power of the Ruby Slippers to go back home any time she wanted to.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” whined Dorothy.
“Because you needed to discover that power for yourself,” said the witch.
“But you just told me,” said the girl.
“Well, you had the power all along,” said Glinda. “You could have read the instructions.”
“Where are those?”
“Inside the shoe.”
“But I can’t take them off!”
Glinda said nothing.
So Dorothy picked up another fire bucket, and splashed water on Glinda.
“You bitch!” screamed Glinda, as she melted away.