Tag Archives: humor

(She got down but she never got tight; she’s gonna make it through the night.)

Today’s agenda:

1) Get blinded by the light — revved up like a deuce, another runner in the night.

2) Make sure nobody misquotes me on the above.

 

 

 

Crimson and clover.

Over and over.

Yeah, I know these aren’t exactly crimson.  (Or clover.)  But I dig The Shondells.

 

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The Poet’s Guide to Flirting with Police Officers

Here’s my plan, anyway.  I’m going to find out where that adorable lady cop’s regular patrol is, and then shoot past her in my car doing 70.  When she pulls me over and asks to see my license, I’ll just wink slyly and ask if she means my poetic license.

See where that gets me.

 

 

 

 

Mill Mountain in Roanoke, Virginia, July 2018 (4)

My Side of the Mountain.  Looking for Frightful and The Baron.

That view is extraordinary, isn’t it?  Mill Mountain rises to around 1,750 feet, and these were taken when my alumbuds and I were at or near the summit.

 

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Isn’t IT cute?

My baby groundhog buddy came back, but he’s shy all of a sudden. See the little twerp peeking out of the storm drain?

When I posted his picture on Facebook, however, Blog Correspondent Pete Harrison immediately cautioned me that he might NOT be a groundhog.  (And me all alone in my little yellow raincoat!)

 

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Why so bitter, bus driver?

Is it because life isn’t fare?

*I’m allowed to crack this joke because my Dad was a bus driver. And because that bus driver I bumped into at Checkers is a real %*&$.

And if you don’t like this joke, it’s just because you’re an opponent of farced busing.

 

 

 

 

 

My three Donald Trump jokes for the day.

  1. The only way that Donald Trump is “a stable genius” is that he is gifted at shoveling horseshit.
  2. My theory is this — the real reason that Trump is so hard on our European allies is that he failed twice at that art school in Vienna.
  3. (Below.) Sean Spicer must have committed a particularly serious crime if Batman is looking for him.

 

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“Happy Birthday, Cthulhu!”

A friend of mine bought a generic painting at a thrift store, but she “decided it needed something” before she hung it up in her house.

That’s flippin’ awesome.

I demanded she make a comparable piece for me one day.

 

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(He can’t hang out tonight, though. He’s swamped at work.)

Of all the DC Comics heroes, I think Swamp Thing would be the most fun to party with.

He just seems like a fungi.

 

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Heyyyyyyyy, it’s Fake Friend Request Day on Facebook!!

Tip of the hat to the nonexistent pretty girls!!

Welcome to Facebook, which you just joined an hour ago!! And good luck at the new job, which … you apparently just started and hour ago … at MacDonald’s.

MacDonlad’s? That’s an interesting choice. Usually you ladies are all veterinarians and personal trainers and scuba instructors and such. Maybe you failed to prepare adequately in your fake school to prepare for your first choice of a fake job. Good luck with that.

I feel lucky, by the way, to be among the first six friends that you sought out on social media.  It’s a select group — just me and five other unmarried men whose immutably credulous and feckless expressions are apparent even in their profile pictures.

Do *I* have that expression?  (Probably.)