After the revolution, the transitional government sent some of their wounded fighters to an American hospital for treatment and rehabilitation.
While the patients healed up, the hospital offered television and newspapers from their homeland, and the kitchen prepares meals of pita bread and olives instead of the usual bland fare with lime Jell-O the other patients get.
Even though they had an interpreter, yellow sticky notes were placed on various items to help the patients learn some basic English words.
As a prank, some notes were switched.
The nurse listened, nodded and smiled. “I guess television is a toilet everywhere.”
Tag: television
Klingons
Back when I was in high school, there was a Klingon Language Club where they spoke that language from the Star Trek show and movies.
They wanted me to join, but I didn’t see any use for it.
A few years later, when we were at the graduation barn dance, a strange light appeared in the sky, and a Klingon warship landed in the parking lot.
The Klingon Language Club, dressed in full Klingon battle armor, greeted the ship.
Its cannons blasted them into atoms.
You know, because it was Kirk at the helm, slingshotted back in time.
Stupid geeks.
Pitchman
The drill sergeant shouted that he wanted the floors so clean, he could eat off of them.
So, we invented a brush and solvent that cleaned the floors perfectly.
We came back two weeks later to clean the floors… and were promptly arrested by MPs.
We were charged with going AWOL.
“But we did what the sergeant told us to do,” I said. “R&D ain’t instant. Heck, that stuff can clean just about anything.”
We were dishonorably discharged from the Army, but made a fortune with the brushes and solvent.
Heck, the sergeant is our pitchman in the informercials now.
College Ball
We watch college ball on Saturday, pro on Sunday.
Been doing that for a long time.
Both games have changed over the years, with kickoffs, protecting the quarterback, and all the damn graphics on the screen.
Biggest change of all is instant replay.
The coach tosses a flag, the officials head to the sideline, and they review the play.
Yeah, for years, we’ve seen that stuff at home, or in the stadium, but now it’s official.
So when the referee ran out of the replay booth flailing his hands and screaming “THE ALIENS ARE COMING!”
Yeah, better close the roof.
Dog Brain
Ruth and Paul were enjoying a quiet evening at home when their son Timmy crawled in the door on all fours, barking madly.
“Lassie, what is it?” said Paul. “Did the mad scientist next door switch your brain with Timmy again?”
Timmy barked.
“And he fell down the well?” said Ruth.
Timmy barked again, then looked back at the door, whining.
Ruth and Paul looked at each other and shrugged.
Paul got up, and closed the door.
“Boy was a pain in the ass,” he said.
The new Lassie shed a lot less.
And shat on the carpet less, too.
The Circle Of Not Life
Poor Charlie Brown.
Every Halloween, we’d watch his Great Pumpkin Special, hoping he’d get candy, but he ended up getting a bag full of rocks.
I’d dream of Charlie, waking up before the break of dawn with that bag full of rocks, going from house to house, tossing those rocks through windows and yelling “ALL I WANTED WAS SOME GODDAMNED CANDY!”
Instead, I think he crafted Pet Rocks out of them and made a fortune selling them as Christmas gifts.
People got bored with them, and on Halloween, they’d drop them in Charlie’s bag again.
“SON OF A FUCKING BITCH!”
Idiot Box
Some people call television “The Idiot Box.”
I find this to be a shallow and ignorant description of the televised media.
It’s also insulting to my own product: “Idiot In A Box.”
There’s not much to it. It’s just an idiot in a box.
I got the idea for it from my retarded little brother, Fred.
He liked to sit in boxes.
And watching him in there was highly entertaining.
Unlike television, with Idiot In A Box, you don’t need signal, cable, or Internet to get content.
Just the idiot. And a box. Maybe some oatmeal.
Oh, and diapers.
Enjoy!
Count Dracula
The people on the TV say today is a day to reflect.
But I, Count Dracula, am a vampire.
I have no reflection.
I look in the mirror and I see nothing.
Should I be seeing something?
Ten years go, I go to my coffin, I rest during the day, and when I wake up, everybody is losing their shit on the TV.
People are digging through the rubble.
And they’re donating blood.
And all I can think about is “Well, this sucks. Now when I go out to drink, not only will I be a monster, but unpatriotic, too.”
Dog Suit
You know that show where the guy’s dressed in a dog costume?
Leave it to the networks to take a good thing and ruin it.
Everybody’s wearing dog suits now.
And unlike that show where the guy’s wearing the dog costume, the first show with one, it doesn’t work at all for them.
It’s not the writers or the actors or the directors.
It just doesn’t work. You can’t just Cousin Oliver in a guy in an animal costume and make it work.
Except on the evening news.
But Dianne Sawyer is wearing a catsuit.
Ratings have never been higher.
Occam
Occam The Philosopher had a face that was as smooth as a baby’s butt, and he was quite proud of it.
“I have a very sharp razor,” said Occam. “I also have very expensive shaving cream, a soft lathering brush, a silver mirror, and a rare herbal aftershave.”
“Isn’t that horribly complicated?” I replied. “Wouldn’t it be simpler to use a depilatory cream?”
“Sometimes the simplest solution isn’t the best one,” Occam said.
Many years later, I saw him hawking an all-in-one shaving contraption on television.
“Just one button!” he shouted. “What could be simpler?”
Growing a beard, I thought.