These little Roanoke fur-twerps need to be more careful about getting underfoot. We not-quite-middle-aged New Yorkers aren’t used to animals darting about our feet. And we … can’t see quite as well as we used to, either.
Tag Archives: humor
This joke is so weak, it would perish in the jungle.
Sooooooo, whenever you order the strangest item on a menu, it’s a Darwinian selection.
The fur-twerps are back and running amok!
The soft invasion is upon us once again; the perennial influx of bunnies has arrived. (It actually arrived maybe two months ago. But these little buggers are shy and quick; this is the first decent picture I’ve successfully snapped.)
(I’m still a cheap date, though.)
Friend: “What if the president gave us all $20,000 each, would everyone drop their hatred for him? Would money solve the problem?”
Me: “C’mon. If I could be bought off that easily, I’d be a Republican Senator.”
Like money in the Iron Bank.
Today’s agenda — get rich quick by selling pirated copies of 1985’s “Ladyhawke” to millennials.
Tell them it’s a soon-to-be-released “Game of Thrones” prequel that was leaked from HBO.
HOUSE NAVARRE!!!!
Yes, this blog has a recipes page.
My recipe for Southern Fried Catfish!!!
- Purchase pre-seasoned southern fried catfish at the grocery store.
- Fry.
- Serve.
- Throw out that tartar sauce in your fridge. There is no need sniff-test it. You have never sniff-tested tartar sauce in your fridge and ever, ever found it viable. Ketchup will work just fine, possibly.
- Smother your urgent existential dread into a brief and tenuous silence with a Klondike Bar for dessert. Preferably Brownie Fudge Swirl.
I’m so brilliant that famous actors wish they could meet me.
A pal of mine read my review of “Condor” earlier and opined that John Hurt was a better actor than William Hurt.
I told him that someone should call an ambulance BECAUSE THEY’RE BOTH HURT.
He suggested that I have someone read and approve my jokes before I post them. It is an abiding challenge in my life that those close to me fail to appreciate my greatness.
Thinking outside the box.
When your girlfriend gives you the silent treatment, you’re both fighting and not fighting.
The dilemma is known as “Schrodinger’s spat.”
(The problem is me, I’m sure.)
I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again — Flo the Progressive girl is absolutely ****ing terrifying.
She’s like The Joker. She’s manic. She’s unwell. You just know she consistently wears those loose-fitting tops because she’s concealing a knife in her waistband.
I would rather buy car insurance from that little girl from “The Exorcist.”
Eric Robert Nolan, Author 