Bob Dylan is an asshole.
Heaven doesn’t have a door to knock on.
It has gates. St. Peter stands at the Gates Of Heaven with a book, and the dead line up to find out if they get in.
You don’t have to bang on the gates, because St. Peter is always out there, waiting for the recently-deceased.
Well, not really waiting, since people are constantly dying and joining the line.
Does he ever get a break? And how does he get updates in that book?
After lying to us for decades, Bob Dylan sure as hell isn’t in it.
Tag: silly
Shod And Dangerous
I bought a pair of running shoes with built-in computer chips that track how far and fast you run.
Just wave the shoes over your laptop, and it uploads all the information to a website, complete with maps and calories.
One morning, I looked at the chart, and it said I had run all the way to bank and back overnight.
I don’t remember doing that.
Had I been sleepwalking? Or sleepjogging?
I got my shoes out of the closet, and a bag of money fell off a shelf.
Apparently, I’d been sleepbankrobbing.
At least the shoes paid for themselves.
Morning Routine
Every morning, as I gather up my stuff and get ready to head to work, my cats like to play with my shoelaces and the cord on my iPhone earbuds.
So, I dangle my shoes and the cord so they can bat them around.
They really love it.
“I gotta go to work,” I tell the cats, putting on my shoes and my headphones.
They look up at me with sad kitty eyes.
“I’ve got time saved up,” I decide, and I call in sick.
Just as I’m hanging up, I reach for the headphones and…
The cats have vanished.
Chicken Soup
My mother always said that chicken soup cures all ills.
When I got older, I had the temerity to question this.
“Yes. Every one of them,” she said.
“What about crazy people?” I asked.
“Hit them in the head with the can until they shut up,” she said.
That night on the news, the Supreme Court was debating legality of chemical castration of a rapist.
“I bet chicken soup couldn’t cure him,” I said.
“Mine would,” said my mother.
And she poured the hot soup in my lap.
She handed me the phone. “Feel like calling your shiksa girlfriend now?”
Tilda
Bubba and Billy Bob had never been to New York.
So when they won a Broadway Weekend in the church raffle, they were in for the shock of their lives.
The buildings… traffic… lights… noise…
And…
“That’s the alien who busted up my truck and anal probed me!” hissed Bubba.
“You sure?” whispered Billy Bob.
Bubba nodded, and the men followed the pale gangly figure down the street until they managed to catch and drag it off.
They’d never been to the movies, or heard of Tilda Swinton.
And she wouldn’t anal probe Bubba, no matter how much he begged.
Truck Day
Truck Day is when a truck full of servers arrives at the datacenter loading dock.
We pull the crates off of the truck, uncrate the servers, stack them on to carts, roll them into the staging area, remove the hot swappable drive holders, unscrew spacers from them and screw the drives into place.
Meanwhile, other crews bolt on rail glides to the chassis, slide out the blades, fill them with memory, pop in the drives, and get them into the racks.
Finally, everything is cabled and scanned into inventory so it’ll be ready to host shit like this stupid story.
Nothing is off the table
My boss, the President, says that nothing is off the table.
Nothing’s fallen off of it, either. It’s a very sturdy table. Unlike most tables, which have a bit of wobble in them due to uneven legs or a warp in the floorboards.
Sometimes, he puts beverages on the table. I make sure there’s plenty of coasters for them.
You know, because coasters count, too. Nothing’s off of the table, remember?
Oh, and dust. Lots of dust on that table. Dust isn’t nothing, either.
I just know it’s not easy to dust when you can’t take anything off the table.
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.
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 Cans
We started with four cats, and they’d eat whatever canned food we put out.
When there was just one of those four left, he had the can all to himself.
But then we found a kitten… and got another kitten, and they’d all eat their canned supper together.
When the last of the original four cats died, the two grown kittens got picky about canned food.
I’ve tried to chart what they like… sliced… flaked… chunks… chicken… liver… beef… fish…
Sometimes, they ate it. Sometimes, they stuck to dry food.
I leave it out on the patio for the strays.