Salad Life

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Before he made monsters, Dr. Frankenstein started with trying to bring salads to life.
At first, he thought that he needed different varieties of lettuce, but in the end he was thoroughly convinced that sliced radishes were the secret.
Time and time again, Igor would throw the switches, sending millions of volts of electricity through a tangled maze of wires and into the salad bowl.
Aside from an impressive shower of sparks, the salad never did come to life.
Today, salad dressing makers try to convince us they have the secret.
No, folks. It’s just a salad. Nothing fancy here.

Keep a little bit of fog

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Jackie keeps a little bit of fog in a jar on her kitchen shelf, and she watches it swirl around from time to time.
How she captured it in there, I don’t know, but I’m sure it wants out from the way it lashes against the glass.
“Don’t let it go,” she says. “It brings me good luck in here.”
She’s never burned anything in the oven, nor has any of her pots ever boiled over.
Without even trying, her pasta is perfect.
Still, I watch the fog, and wonder if it is suffering.
Oh well. It’s time for dinner.

Band In A Box

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Somebody showed me “Band In A Box.” Just set up a looping track, set the key and the beat, and you’re ready to play or sing along.
It really works.
Until this morning, that is. I pushed the button and nothing happened.
My virtual bassist caught a nasty virus from a digital stripper, then he wrecked his car in a racing game.
No backups, either. The funeral’s tomorrow.
The guitarist looked up Yoko Ono on Wikipedia, fell in love with her, uploaded himself to India, and vanished.
The drummer became a Pastafarian – Flying Spaghetti Monsters.
So, anyone for Guitar Hero?

Put Em On The Glass

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Arnold requested that they put his name on the door to his office, but the office manager kept declining it.
So, he’d write his name in dry-erase marker on the glass door.
The janitor would come by after hours and wipe the glass clean.
This went on for years. Other employees got their names on their doors, but even when Arnold got promoted up the ranks, he never did.
Finally, Arnold outranked the office manager and demanded to know why his requests were declined.
“What the hell do you expect with a last name like Shitfucker?” said the office manager.

For The Birds

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Ever sit down in a restaurant, and you hear people babbling in another language, and you just know it’s about you?
I’m that way with birds. I think among the chirps and tweets and caws and trills, they’re talking about me.
I grabbed a bird off of a clothesline and demanded to know what it was saying about me.
It kept cawing and scratching madly, so I asked it slower and louder.
That always works with people, right?
But no matter how hard you try, it doesn’t work with birds.
So, I threw it against a wall and walked home.

The Best Tea

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Back in WW1, as our boys fought the Kaiser, we made sure they were provided with the best.
The best guns. The best uniforms. The best food. And, most of all, the best tea.
Now, conditions weren’t always the best, and it’s hard to transport millions of teacups through enemy lines. And no civilized man drinks tea from a tin cup.
So, the boys would put tea leaves on their tongues and we’d pour in the boiling water.
They made a contest of it, who could hold their tea the longest before swallowing.
Sugar? Lemon?
Pathetic Nancy boys, those were!

Sign Here

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Nobody notices as she slips in through the back door, silent as a whisper.
Everybody’s busy getting ready for the last scene, shoving props around. Costume changes.
She recognizes a few of the actors and gets out her little autograph book.
“Excuse me,” says a voice. She nearly jumps out of her skin as a man with a clipboard taps her on the shoulder. “Are you with the press?”
She’s frozen. She doesn’t know what to say. She-
“Yes,” says an actor. “She’s here to interview me.”
The clipboard-holder vanishes.
The actor opens the book, signs his name, and smiles.

Bowling Alley

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A neighborhood only gets a movie theater when people there go to the movies so often, some chain finds profit bringing the movies to them instead of making those folks drive an hour or two.
It’s not the same with bowling alleys. Those chains use satellite photography to watch empty fields for kids playing sandlot bowling, rolling balls over the uneven, rocky ground at makeshift pins.
Or maybe they put their agents in shoe stores, listening for when someone asks to rent the ugliest pair in the store for a few hours.
Whatever you do, do it fast.
We”re desperate!

Jersey Girl

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Shirley the Mermaid had been around. She’d seen everything.
She and the girls were getting their nails done when they talked about their first times.
The first time Shirley saw a human, she swam after it for a closer examination.
It looked like a mermaid, but instead of fins, it had two limbs coming out of its hips leading into a solid stone-like block.
“Mob informant,” she thought. “Should have kept his goddamed trap shut.”
She took his wallet, emptied out the cash, and swam away.
Whether you’re over or under the Boardwalk, a Jersey Girl is a Jersey Girl.

Assembly

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I like to walk through the drive through lane at the bank and ask for a loan for a car.
Usually, I get a laugh, but one day – that pneumatic tube machine wheezes and PLOMP! It lands on the hopper.
I open it up, and there”s a set of car keys.
I pull the keys out and hit the Call button – “Very funny,” I said. “What should I do with these?”
PLOMP! Another tube shows up. There”s an instruction booklet in there for assembling a car.
PLOMP! Some spark plugs.
PLOMP! A fanbelt.
PLOMP! PLOMP! PLOMP!
This could get messy.