I know a guy named Yankee Doodle, but instead of riding into town on a pony, he liked to put on a gag costume that made him look like he was riding on the back of an old Russian woman.
At least I thought it was a costume. Only when I got a closer look did I realize that it was a real old Russian woman that he was riding.
“Seriously?” I asked him.
He nodded.
I sighed. “No more driving drunk?”
He nodded again.
“Okay,” I said. “You can have your license and keys back.”
“Spaseba.” said the woman.
Tag: society
The Koto
Master Watanabe makes swords. He’s been making swords for forty years.
His swords are the best swords, but he has yet to recreate the Koto, the legendary samurai sword.
There are no instructions or directions remaining. So, Watanabe experiments with every sword he makes.
He is teaching his apprentices how to make swords, so they can carry on the traditions, and his quest to recreate the Koto.
But you know what? Watanabe’s a moron.
Who the fuck needs a Koto? Who’s going around with swords these days?
What people need are knives in the kitchen and for self-defense, not swords.
Ceremony of the broken
Funerary ceremonies. There are so many.
I’ve seen my share of them.
When a magician dies, a broken wand ceremony is performed to represent that the magic is gone.
When an engineer dies, a broken slide rule ceremony is performed to represent that the math is gone.
When a chef dies, a broken spatula ceremony is performed to represent that the cooking is gone.
When a painter dies, a broken palette ceremony is performed to represent that the art is gone.
But when a politician dies, what is left to break? Promises? Commitments? The System? Those are already hopelessly broken.
Germophobe
Every flight’s got some kooky, obsessive germophobe who wipes their seat down with antiseptic spray, and then lays a towel on the seat before they sit down.
They usually wear masks and gloves, and they like to bring their own beverages and snacks.
Man, they bother me.
I like to fake a sneeze or a cough in their direction, just to get them all freaked out.
However, one time, a sneeze got out of control, and I ended up vomiting on the guy.
The airline suspended me for two weeks. Pilots are supposed to say hello, not barf on passengers.
Fuckup
Dave is a total fuckup. No matter what you hand him, he fucks it up.
And then, after he fucks up, he finds ways to make other people deal with it.
Sometimes, he leaves his fuckups on the doorstep. Then he rings the doorbell and runs like hell.
Other times, he dumps his fuckups in a neighbor’s trashcan. That way, he won’t be fined if the fuckup has a car battery or some other hazardous material in it.
He’s so good at getting rid of fuckups, we tried to put him in charge of it.
Yup. He fucked that up.
Combover
My neighbor Ed is a middle school gym teacher.
He’s got the worst comb-over of anyone I know.
And it’s not just his hair.
His lawn’s mostly brown patches, and he’s raked the few remaining green blades of grass over them.
His carpet’s stained and worn, and he’s tried to push the clean shag pile over the worst spots.
His Afghan Hound has a patchy pelt from worms and mange, but he’s pushed the fur around to cover the bare spots.
And when he has me over for dinner, it’s spaghetti.
Just a few strands draped over a huge meatball.
Snake Handlers
I saw a snake in our yard. It was long and black.
I took a picture of it and sent it to Facebook.
“That’s a water moccasin,” a friend said. “It’s poisonous.”
We called 911, who told us to call 311. They sent us to Animal Control, but they said they don’t do snakes. “Call a snake wrangler.”
They didn’t have the number handy. And Siri kept offering to download “Snakes On A Plane” for 99 cents.
We eventually got it trapped in a heavy burlap sack.
Finally, we looked up Animal Control’s address and slipped it into their mailbox.
Schools Were Closed
Monday, schools were closed because the weatherman said there were icy conditions on the roads, so they couldn’t run the buses.
Tuesday, schools were closed because the weatherman said there was a hurricane warning.
Wednesday, schools were closed because the weatherman said that there were wildfires in the area that were threatening populated areas.
Thursday, schools were closed because the weatherman warned of flash floods.
And on Friday, schools were closed.
No, the weatherman didn’t say anything.
It was because everybody with children had moved away.
What kind of person would raise their kids in a crazy place like this?
Census
Alvin The Census Taker goes door to door, asking questions and collecting data on his tablet.
He takes notes on the places with decent stuff to steal and without burglar alarms.
His cousin looks over the maps. He tries to mix up his collection route so the cops don’t see a pattern.
“They don’t give a fuck,” says Alvin. “My place got robbed five times, and I never got anything back.”
His cousin coughs, keeps looking over the maps.
He only robbed Alvin once.
Mistook a map to his place for a collection map.
He’s a lot more careful now.
Unravel
Tina flew a lot, but she didn’t like to read books or watch movies or listen to music.
Instead, she liked to knit. And she was really good at it.
She knitted sweaters and socks. On really long flights, she’d knit a blanket. Or something even more complex.
After 9/11, knitting needles were banned on flights, and Tina couldn’t stand the boredom.
So, she knitted her own plane. And pilot.
She flew around the world in her knitted private plane, knitting without end.
Eventually, she knit her own little world.
She lived happily ever after… until her cat unraveled everything.