On March 30, 1981, during an assassination attempt on President Ronald Reagan, White House Press Secretary James Brady was shot in the head.
He was rushed to the hospital in grave condition.
Several hours later, most media outlets reported that Brady had died.
Despite the fact that the trauma surgeons had saved his life.
Brady fought hard to survive and recover.
No, he never returned to his job.
But he did return to the White House Briefing Room.
The audience of reporters and correspondents applauded him, those same despicable vultures who rushed to pick at his twitching corpse for headlines.
Never again and again
It is Holocaust Remembrance Day.
And we say NEVER AGAIN!
There are some that wish that Hitler had finished the job. AGAIN! they shout.
And others deny that it happened at all. NEVER! they shout.
What amazes me is that you’ll find someone who believes both.
Both lies taught by the same teachers to classrooms full of young hateful monsters.
The result is someone who shouts AGAIN! and also NEVER!
Believing and exposing both of these evils at the same time.
So, I stopped saying NEVER AGAIN!
Instead, I say we reopen the camps, and gas those crazy monstrous assholes.
Sea Shells
Sally sells sea shells by the sea shore.
She is the only sea shell seller by the sea shore.
She has the sea shell market cornered.
Every morning, Sally and her contracted prison laborers go to the shore and collect up all of the sea shells.
If you try to go to the beach and collect your own, Sally will ask you nicely for your shell.
If you refuse, she might offer to buy it from you for a quarter.
But if you insist on keeping the sea shell, her goons will throw you into the sea and you’ll drown.
Come to Jesus
Ted wasn’t a very good employee, and his supervisor constantly reprimanded him and gave poor performance reviews.
One day, the supervisor said “We’re need to have a ‘Come to Jesus’ moment here.”
Ted went back to his desk, put on a Roman centurion costume, picked up a spear, and went back to his supervisor’s office.
“I know you’re busy,” he said. “We’ll skip the whole crown of thorns, whipping, and nailing to a cross part, okay?”
And then he stabbed his supervisor in the gut.
There wasn’t a rock to bury the supervisor under, so Ted used a filing cabinet.
Sailor None
The best thing about Pluto’s demotion from planet to dwarf planet was Sailor Pluto being stripped of her status, too.
Literally stripped. All of the Sailors gathered together, and they slowly stripped the former Sailor Pluto until the hot young college student was left naked and powerless.
And then they took turns spanking her.
Never mind that Sailor Moon and Chibi Sailor Moon don’t represent planets. They represent the Moon, right?
Better strip them down, too.
Oh, and then they could all take a bath together, too.
And this is why Neil DeGrasse Tyson isn’t allowed to write fan fiction.
Weekly Challenge #695 – LADY
- Richard
- Lizzie
- Serendipidy
- Norval Joe
- Planet Z
NORVAL JOE
Billbert showed up for the dance on Friday night, having not spoken to Marrissa or Linoliumanda in days. He wondered if either would be there.
A lady at the door to the gymnasium checked his student ID before letting him into the large decorated room.
The lights were on.
Parents had worried their children would get up to no good if allowed to dance in the dark.
Therefore, no one danced. Instead, students lined the walls glancing nervously at one another.
Until someone requested the DJ play the Harry Potter Theme song.
On the dance floor, Linoliumanda danced by herself.
RICHARD
First date
I thought everything was going really well.
My date kept giving me flirty looks, laughing at my jokes and we were getting on as if we’d known each other years.
The restaurant was pretty good too – a little fancy compared to my usual haunts, but I wasn’t complaining, and the quality of the food almost justified the exorbitant prices!
Meal over, I leaned back in my chair and let out a satisfied belch.
“Well, that’s not very ladylike” muttered my date.
“Oh, I’m no lady”, I replied, surreptitiously rearranging the bulge in my underwear to a more comfortable position.
LIZZIE
The writer hammered the story on his laptop. The damn plot wasn’t working. His main character, Lady Whatever (name not yet settled), had just hidden the corpse of her husband under her bed. The writer tried to convince the character that that was a bad idea. Lady Whatever gave him the finger and continued with her merry life. He grinned. That character had to go. Lady Whatever, who was pretty smart, hid under her bed. The stench was so bad, that the writer gave up. Let her be, he thought. And the story was a success, believe it or not.
SERENDIPIDY
The Lady of Shalott, it is said, died of unrequited love for Lancelot.
He, oblivious to her yearning, spurned his king and his calling, for a tawdry, illicit affair with Guinevere, bringing civil war and an end to Arthur’s throne.
So much for chivalry.
However, Lancelot of the Lake wasn’t entirely to blame…
As they say, behind every successful man, stands a scheming woman, and I – the Lady of the Lake – hold that particular title in this story.
And, for me, it all worked out exactly as planned:
After all, in the end, I got my sword back!
PLANET Z
They say that Evel Kneivel broke every bone in his body.
That’s two hundred and six bones broken.
Rocket Rachel Ricardo broke her little toe.
But she broke it two hundred and six times.
She’d appear on talk shows and trip over a riser and break her toe.
Sometimes, just standing there, you’d hear a crack.
“Oh no,” she said. “I broke my toe.”
And the audience would laugh.
After a while, she’d had enough, and she had that toe surgically removed.
The next stunt, she was impaled by a piece of rebar.
But she didn’t break a single bone.
Posse of Clowns
When I win the lottery, I’m going to hire a gang of birthday clowns, and have them follow me everywhere like a posse.
A posse of clowns, in their makeup and baggy pants and floppy shoes, making balloon animals and squirting flowers and annoying the hell out of everyone.
We rough it up with other lottery winners and their posses.
Of mimes. Of Renaissance Fair fortune-tellers. Of chiropractors.
And we fight. Boy, do we fight.
We fight like… well… a pack of clowns.
There are a lot of casualties.
I pour out a forty-ounce of seltzer water on the curb.
Barbarians at the gate
People are always saying that the barbarians are at the gate.
Of course they are. It’s Barbarian Airlines, and everyone knows that you need to be at the gate at least 45 minutes prior to departure.
Oh, sure, they might have some trouble with Security, and parking is such a hassle, but as long as they’re at the gate 45 minutes prior to departure, they’ll be fine.
Now, the standby barbarians, those are the real problem. One or two get seats and upgrades, but the rest…
Close the door!
Push back from the gate!
And let’s get out of here!
Failure
Failure is not an option. Failure is not an option. Failure is our goal.
Failure, Idaho may not sound like a great place to live, and you’d be right.
It’s a horrible place to live.
The water is poisonous and the air is toxic.
That’s why we brought water and breathing masks.
We get in, grab as much of the money left in the bank’s vault, and get the hell out.
If anybody’s guarding it, they weren’t going to last much longer. Killing them is a mercy.
What if they want to come along?
We’re robbers, not the Red Cross.
Columbus
“Are you staying in Atlanta?” asks the stewardess.
“No,” I say. “But I wish I was.”
We’re flying to Columbus.
I spent ten years there.
I never wanted to go back.
But there’s a conference there and I couldn’t get out of it.
The Visitor’s Bureau consists of one big sign that says “WHY?”
If you can see it through the pollution.
I ask for a ginger ale.
“Sure you don’t want something stronger?”
Maybe if she comes back this way, I’ll get a bottle of Jack.
By the time you feel the smooth whiskey burn, the bottle is empty.