When people are confused by bad grammar, to whom do they turn? Those who use good grammar, that’s whom. Giants such as Mr. DeHart, my eighth grade English teacher.
Hunters can leave their bottled deer urine home. Just drive recklessly through my neighborhood. Deer are everywhere, marauding house-to-house, indiscriminately stripping foliage and bark from anything standing
Ever eat monkey brains? If, by chance, you have, maybe you’d also like to sit down before a heaping helping of suckers.
I’m considering starting a non-profit to help people like me. We suffer from a never-talked-about side-effect of Parkinson’s Disease: noses that run excessively:
What’s the point of a job? To make money, of course, so you can retire. To take it easy. To watch reruns of “The Dukes of Hazard” on TV-Land. To be lazy. I say, why wait? Start now.
Tired of long poems you don’t understand? Don’t strain your brain. These five flash-poems could be right up your alley. They border on the macabre and are a tad irreverent. But they’ll take only about five seconds to read. That way, even if they stink, you won’t have wasted much time.
Clones in movies and TV are always crazy and possessed. Remember when Captain Kirk’s clone tried to kill off the Enterprise? And who could figure out The Matrix? They had clones too, and they were all up to no good.
Women used to get their hair done at the beauty parlor. Then one day, somebody came up with an idea, “If we offer a selection of international teas while customers wait, we can raise our price. And if we play relaxing New Age music and burn incense, we can charge even more.”
Over forty years ago, I met my wife Liz. Ever the romanticist, I asked her out to play ping pong. Having grown up in British Guyana, she immediately corrected me. It’s “table tennis, not ping pong!”
What happens when you combine horny geezers with famous tag lines from old TV commercials? You don’t want to know.