Tag: commentary

Midnight in Munich

675027

It’s midnight in Munich.
There’s opera singers on every street corner, belting out arias for spare change.
Give ’em five euros and they’ll watch your car all night long.
They say it deters crime. And the tourists dig it, too.
I don’t. All this racket gives me a nasty headache.
Besides, there’s too many streets and not enough opera singers, so they have to deploy understudies and amateurs to fill the gaps.
I liked it better when we had cops.
Now hand over your wallet, American.
Forget the cash… I just want to see if there’s an aspirin in it.

The Wife

692425

The old man’s lawyers called his wife.
“We’re on vacation,” growled the wife.
“We’re concerned,” said the lawyers. “Now that he’s been found guilty, the fine your husband faces is disastrously large.”
“Are my assets safe?” asked the wife.
“No,” said the lawyers. “What’s yours is his. Everything goes.”
The wife pondered. “Is there a way out of this?”
“He’s guilty, but not sentenced,” said the lawyers. “If he dies before sentencing, the judgment vanishes.”
“And you get paid,” said the wife.
They gave her sugar pills. She gave them his heart medication.
She woke up a very rich widow.

My Cheese

612804

Who moved my cheese?
You don’t know?
I’ll tell you who moved my cheese… it was you. You moved my cheese.
Don’t lie to me. Stop lying to me!
Oh, sure, you moved my cheese. But… I don’t know why.
Why did you move my cheese? Why couldn’t you just leave well enough alone.
The cheese wasn’t hurting anyone there. It wasn’t bothering anyone. It was fine.
But you moved it. You moved my cheese… somewhere.
Tell me. Where did you move my cheese?
Tell me where you moved my cheese, and I’ll tell you where I threw your elephant.

Robbing the Dead

690858

Haven’t you robbed enough from the man?
His home.
His son.
His strength.
His life.
Body’s not cold yet, laying on the couch, they’re talking about taking one last thing.
“He’s got one of those dick implant pumps,” Catfish says. “Good model, too.”
“Cut it out, and we’ll sell it in Mexico,” says The Bitch.
They go into the kitchen, looking for knives and a bag.
Don’t need to be delicate when the man’s dead.
“Wait,” says The Bitch.
“Yeah,” says Catfish. “This ain’t right.”
“No,” says The Bitch. “Put him on the floor. We can sell that couch, too.”

Shouting

384778

Jerry tried to think of worse things to shout in a movie theater than “Fire!” He ran down the list in his notebook, shouting each one.
The theater owner didn’t appreciate his field research and banned him from the theater.
Never one to give up easily, he tried other theaters, but his face was on a printout at the box office.
So he went from town to town, but the theater chains caught on to his act.
Jerry became a master of disguise, using false noses and wigs and sunglasses to alter his appearance.
Eventually, the worst word became “JERRY!”

Pay Your Respects

612177

Why don’t we allow the press to photograph the coffins returning home?
It’s because we don’t want them being counted.
The truth is, very few of our boys are dying over there. Sure, a few of our boys get dinged up pretty bad, but we’ve recovered most of them and they insist on going back and fighting.
Still, we’ve got a contract for so many coffins, flags, and burial plots per quarter. And you know how the Pentagon is with negotiating contracts.
No room to store them all and the paperwork’s a bitch, so we might as well use ’em.

Stairway To Heaven

504813

Lisa walked up the staircase for weeks until she reached Heaven.
She knocked twice on the door, waited for a moment, and then knocked three more times.
The door creaked open and a bearded man poked his head out.
“What is it?” asked the old man.
“Why?” asked Lisa.
The old man scratched his beard and thought for a moment.
“There was a lot left over from my first project, so I decided to build something with the scraps,” he said, and then he leaned back and closed the door.
Lisa sat on the staircase for a while and pondered.

Cruel and Unusual

542619

“Anything you want for a last meal, Rufus?” asked the warden.
Rufus thought. “I’d like peanuts,” he said.
“Your lawyers say they’ll get another stay,” said the warden. “That makes eleven. A new record.”
“I wish they wouldn’t” said Rufus. “I’m tired. I wish this was done.”
Rufus didn’t get his wishes.
“Making you wait for these would be cruel and unusual,” said the warden, sliding a bag of peanuts through the bars.
Rufus waited until the warden left before mashing them up, rubbing them on his skin, and swallowing the rest.
His allergies worked fast. Gone in an hour.

Sad Sack of a Sacker

719732

Ronnie held the dented can in his hand. Just a few seconds earlier, it had rolled out of its sack, fell through a hole in his cart, and rolled under his foot.
Ronnie counted to ten and took a deep breath.
“Excuse me,” he said to the sacker. “This fell out.”
“So?” said the sacker.
“Can you get me another one?” asked Ronnie.
The sacker sighed deeply, turned around, and shuffled off to the Canned Vegetables aisle.
Three minutes later, he returned with a fresh can.
“Now shove it up your ass,” said Ronnie, pushing the cart out the door.

Not The Same

673801

The suicide bomber only managed to kill one person when he blew himself up at the sidewalk café: the security guard who kept him from killing more.
The bomber exploded in the guard’s embrace, both dying at the same time.
Both shared something else in common: the same exact type of cell phone. Down to the ringtone.
The guard’s widow got the phone of the bomber, and the bomber’s widow got the phone of the guard.
Neither noticed the difference or ever charged the batteries on the bloody devices. They just sat on memorial shelves, occasionally taken down for dusting.