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Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
"Deteriorata" - National Lampoon
"Deteriorata" - National Lampoon
You are a fluke of the universe. You have no right to be here.
Deteriorata. Deteriorata.
Go placidly amid the noise and waste,
And remember what comfort there may be in owning a piece thereof.
Avoid quiet and passive persons, unless you are in need of sleep.
Rotate your tires.
Speak glowingly of those greater than yourself,
And heed well their advice, even though they be turkeys.
Know what to kiss, and when.
Consider that two wrongs never make a right, but that three do.
Wherever possible, put people on hold.
Be comforted that in the face of all aridity and disillusionment,
and despite the changing fortunes of time,
There is always a big future in computer maintenance.
Remember The Pueblo.
Strive at all times to bend, fold, spindle, and mutilate.
Know yourself. If you need help, call the FBI.
Exercise caution in your daily affairs,
Especially with those persons closest to you -
That lemon on your left, for instance.
Be assured that a walk through the ocean of most souls
Would scarcely get your feet wet.
Fall not in love therefore. It will stick to your face.
Gracefully surrender the things of youth: birds, clean air, tuna, Taiwan.
And let not the sands of time get in your lunch.
Hire people with hooks.
For a good time, call 606-4311. Ask for Ken.
Take heart in the bedeepening gloom
That your dog is finally getting enough cheese.
And reflect that whatever fortune may be your lot,
It could only be worse in Milwaukee.
You are a fluke of the universe.
You have no right to be here.
And whether you can hear it or not,
The universe is laughing behind your back.
Therefore, make peace with your god,
Whatever you perceive him to be - hairy thunderer, or cosmic muffin.
With all its hopes, dreams, promises, and urban renewal,
The world continues to deteriorate.
Give up!
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Friday, November 11, 2011
Wednesday, November 9, 2011
Ed, the chicken
Ed came home drunk one night, slid into bed beside his sleeping wife, and fell into a deep slumber.
He awoke before the Pearly Gates, where St. Peter said, ‘You died in your sleep, Ed.’
Ed was stunned. ‘I’m dead? No, I can’t be! I’ve got too much to live for. Send me back!’
St. Peter said, ‘I’m sorry, but there’s only one way you can go back, and that is as a chicken.’
Chicken and eggsEd was devastated, but begged St. Peter to send him to a farm near his home. The next thing he knew, he was covered with feathers, clucking and pecking the ground..
A rooster strolled past. ‘So, you’re the new hen, huh? How’s your first day here?’
‘Not bad,’ replied Ed the hen, ‘but I have this strange feeling inside. Like I’m gonna explode!’
‘You’re ovulating,’ explained the rooster. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never laid an egg before?’
‘Never,’ said Ed.
‘Well, just relax and let it happen,’ says the rooster. ‘It’s no big deal.’
He did, and a few uncomfortable seconds later, out popped an egg! He was overcome with emotion as he experienced motherhood. He soon laid another egg — his joy was overwhelming..
As he was about to lay his third egg, he felt a smack on the back of his head, and heard…..
“Ed, wake up! You shit the bed!”
He awoke before the Pearly Gates, where St. Peter said, ‘You died in your sleep, Ed.’
Ed was stunned. ‘I’m dead? No, I can’t be! I’ve got too much to live for. Send me back!’
St. Peter said, ‘I’m sorry, but there’s only one way you can go back, and that is as a chicken.’
Chicken and eggsEd was devastated, but begged St. Peter to send him to a farm near his home. The next thing he knew, he was covered with feathers, clucking and pecking the ground..
A rooster strolled past. ‘So, you’re the new hen, huh? How’s your first day here?’
‘Not bad,’ replied Ed the hen, ‘but I have this strange feeling inside. Like I’m gonna explode!’
‘You’re ovulating,’ explained the rooster. ‘Don’t tell me you’ve never laid an egg before?’
‘Never,’ said Ed.
‘Well, just relax and let it happen,’ says the rooster. ‘It’s no big deal.’
He did, and a few uncomfortable seconds later, out popped an egg! He was overcome with emotion as he experienced motherhood. He soon laid another egg — his joy was overwhelming..
As he was about to lay his third egg, he felt a smack on the back of his head, and heard…..
“Ed, wake up! You shit the bed!”
Monday, November 7, 2011
Bertha and Betty
Two 90-year-old women, Bertha and Betty, had been friends all of their lives.
When it was clear that Bertha was dying, Betty visited her every day.
One day Betty said, “Bertha, we both loved playing softball all our lives, and we played all through high school. Please do me one favor: when you get to heaven, somehow you must let me know if there’s women’s softball there.”
Bertha looked up at Betty from her deathbed and said, “Betty, you’ve been my best friend for many years. If it’s at all possible, I’ll do this favor for you.”
Shortly after that, Bertha died.
A few nights later, Betty was awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to her, “Betty, Betty…”
“Who is it?” asked Betty, sitting up suddenly. “Who is it?”
“Betty — it’s me, Bertha.”
“You’re not Bertha. Bertha just died.”
“I’m telling you, it’s me, Bertha,” insisted the voice.
“Bertha! Where are you?”
“In heaven,” replied Bertha. “I have some really good news and a little bad news.”
“Tell me the good news first,” said Betty.
“The good news,” Bertha said with joy and enthusiasm, “is that there’s women’s softball in heaven. Better yet, all of our old buddies who died before me are here, too. Even better than that, we’re all young again! Better still, it’s always springtime and it never rains or snows. And best of all, we can play softball all we want, and we never get tired.”
“That’s fantastic,” said Betty. “It’s beyond my wildest dreams! So what’s the bad news?”
“You’re pitching Tuesday.”
When it was clear that Bertha was dying, Betty visited her every day.
One day Betty said, “Bertha, we both loved playing softball all our lives, and we played all through high school. Please do me one favor: when you get to heaven, somehow you must let me know if there’s women’s softball there.”
Bertha looked up at Betty from her deathbed and said, “Betty, you’ve been my best friend for many years. If it’s at all possible, I’ll do this favor for you.”
Shortly after that, Bertha died.
A few nights later, Betty was awakened from a sound sleep by a blinding flash of white light and a voice calling out to her, “Betty, Betty…”
“Who is it?” asked Betty, sitting up suddenly. “Who is it?”
“Betty — it’s me, Bertha.”
“You’re not Bertha. Bertha just died.”
“I’m telling you, it’s me, Bertha,” insisted the voice.
“Bertha! Where are you?”
“In heaven,” replied Bertha. “I have some really good news and a little bad news.”
“Tell me the good news first,” said Betty.
“The good news,” Bertha said with joy and enthusiasm, “is that there’s women’s softball in heaven. Better yet, all of our old buddies who died before me are here, too. Even better than that, we’re all young again! Better still, it’s always springtime and it never rains or snows. And best of all, we can play softball all we want, and we never get tired.”
“That’s fantastic,” said Betty. “It’s beyond my wildest dreams! So what’s the bad news?”
“You’re pitching Tuesday.”
Sunday, November 6, 2011
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