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| "AMERICA'S FUNNIEST HUMOR"TM
SHOWCASE
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Feb./ March 2008
Humor Writing Contest Results! |
It's Only
Logical
By Judi Veoukas, Illinois
In a world where women come from Venus and men come from logic, it’s
tough to be a woman. It isn’t that we’re not logical; we just have our
own assumptions of what “logical” means. Here’s an example how my logic
fared when I faced down the male version of it.
I did not receive roses from my spouse on our anniversary because he
claimed finances to be a wee-bit sparse this year. Somewhat miffed, but
never one not to turn things to my advantage, I suggested he buy me an
artificial tree instead. I explained it this way: “The tree will
probably cost less than the dozen roses you didn’t buy me, and, in some
small manner, even a bogus tree is related to the floral family. But,
best of all, it will fill the empty corner of the bathroom.”
“But I didn’t buy you roses,” he said, “so it doesn’t make sense to
replace a gift I didn’t buy you with something else.” Did he stop there?
No. “Besides, he said, “you cannot compare an artificial tree to roses,
even in some small way.” (Never mind that he hadn’t bought the roses.)
I’ll admit he momentarily had me with that comparison but I can think
quickly, if not logically. “The roses would have died, but the
artificial tree will last forever.”
He countered. “But to replace an item, forever lasting or not, with an
item I wasn’t going to buy you in the first place still makes no sense.”
“It does to me,” I answered.
I saw the look of defeat in his eyes, but it was fleeting.
He took his logic in a new direction. “Why,” he said, “do we need to
fill the empty space in the bathroom?”
“Well, the vanity you installed isn’t wide enough, and the empty space
next to it just begs for greenery.”
“It isn’t wide enough,” he said, “because we bought the vanity you
insisted on.”
“If you recall,” I replied, “the vanity that filled the space would have
cost a lot more, so an artificial tree is truly a bargain.”
“An empty space is a better bargain,” he said.
“Come on,” I said, urging him to look inside the bathroom. “What do you
see in that corner?”
“Nothing,” he answered. “What’s wrong with ‘nothing’?”
“Nothing is wrong with ‘nothing,’ but here we need something, and that
something is an artificial tree that will actually save us hundreds of
dollars.”
“Whoa,” he said. “Roses don’t cost hundreds of dollars.”
“I know,” I conceded, “but a bigger vanity will.”
He cleared his throat and spoke in an attorney-like voice: “Not only did
I not buy you roses, but I have no intention of installing a bigger
vanity nor of buying an artificial tree.” He rested his case.
I did not rest mine. I explained how buying an artificial tree would
stimulate the economy. I mentioned that its artificialness would help
save the rain forests. I ended by promising to string it with lights
next Christmas--which would cost far less than purchasing
Santa-decorated hand-towels and reindeer-shaped soap.
He let out a sigh, no doubt heard by all men of the world, and left the
area muttering, “What is wrong with that woman?”
I can’t explain the precise moment male logic caved because my tactics
pretty much made no sense, even to me. Nevertheless, an artificial tree
now stands in what was formerly a vacant spot.
And I love the roses I
received for my birthday.
© Copyright
by author, used with permission by Humor Press. No unauthorized reproduction or redistribution is allowed.
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 Signs
Of The Apocalypse
By Dan Bain, North Carolina
I remember that night after my Freshman year when I told
my parents I was changing majors from Computer Science to English. After
they came to, they expressed their concerns – they thought I’d never
find a job. But I proved them wrong; I’ve been through plenty of jobs
since then.
Ironically, my previous Computer Science classmates are looking for jobs
now, having had theirs outsourced. And because they’ve never learned to
communicate with anything human, they constantly create ridiculous
grammatical errors, along with a demand for us English majors.
It’s as if we’ve become a world without a proofreader. Most of the
errors are found in signs at businesses, who should really consider
hiring us to review everything they hang on their walls. A fellow writer
recently saw this sign at an establishment in a nearby mall: Dog’s
Welcome.
If they meant to imply that all dogs are welcome, they need to erase the
apostrophe. That’s used for possessives and contractions, not plurals.
Leaving it in creates numerous other interpretations.
Could be there’s only one dog welcome, and they were trying to say, “Dog
is welcome.” Sounds rather Slavic, da? “Dog is welcome, but Moose and
Squirrel must die, Boris.”
Then again, maybe they like that bounty hunter from TV.
The apostrophe might be possessive, and a “Dog’s Welcome” is what you
will receive if you go into that store. In which case, I’d walk on, not
really wanting a salesclerk to wag his tail, drool on me, and sniff me
in inappropriate places.
Lastly, it could just mean that a dyslexic was preparing for the Second
Coming.
Another friend shared this beauty from a counter at the food court
Chick-fil-A: It’s “our pleasure” to refill your drink.
Quotation marks are meant to enclose either direct quotes or figurative
language. Since there was no source cited for the insightful quote of
“our pleasure,” it’s to be assumed the phrase is figurative. In which
case, I’d be pretty skeptical of their intentions, and probably eschew
the refill.
But what else can we expect, grammatically, from the franchise that
purports a single letter “A” makes the long “ey” sound? No, you cows!
That’s nothing more than a schwa; it would be pronounced, “Chick-fil-uh.”
And we’re not even going to talk about the people who misuse … the
ellipse … on their … signs … to the point where you could swear William
Shatner must have been dictating the words to them.
Last fall, my favorite McDonald’s posted its employment needs and
seasonal menu offerings on the same sign without any punctuation,
resulting in this gem: “NOW HIRING MANAGERS & CREW PUMPKIN PIE.” Can you
imagine how the job interview for a pumpkin pie might go? “Well, we need
someone with a crusty personality, but who’s not afraid to be sweet
inside. Your function fits within a typical box.”
Another sign near me has no grammatical errors; it’s simply unnecessary.
The cheapest gas in town is just down the street, and the pump traffic
is maddening. So they put up signs at either end of the rows of pumps,
reading, “Exit only” and “Enter only.” The second one is a waste of
posterboard; can anyone tell me when you will read an “Enter only” sign
from your car and actually be in danger of breaking that rule?
I’ve noticed other unnecessary notifications from my car. Whenever I
request a withdrawal from my ATM, it returns my card prior to dispensing
the money and receipt. Just in case I’m an idiot, it flashes this
reminder: “Please wait for cash.” Not only is that insulting, it’s
social Darwinism – if the driver in front of me is stupid enough to
leave his money hanging from the ATM, please don’t remind him and
deprive me of the windfall!
Speaking of money, I also love this one from our local newspaper
dispenser boxes: “Use any combination of coins. Do not insert pennies.”
Yep, and feel free to take as many papers out of the box as you want. As
long as you only want one.
I see my word limit is rapidly approaching. This is a sign I
should…obey…and bring my word’s to an “end.”
http://groups.google.com/group/bainwaves
© Copyright
by author, used with permission by Humor Press. No unauthorized reproduction or redistribution is allowed.
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 To
Blog Or Not To Blog
By Chad
Hatfield, Washington
I started blogging about six months ago, or should I say, blogging
took over my life six months ago.
When I started my blog, I never
realized how many people it would affect, namely—me. I have to spend
time posting things on the blog. Plus I have to create and manage a
whole slew of fake accounts to post comments.
The whole process is very
time consuming and has affected me greatly. I now have no time for
exercising, reading my mail, or putting on a belt.
Others were also affected. There were many people who asked me for
favors that I forgot about because of all of this blogging. For example,
Mrs. Wethers next door asked me to feed her bird while she was on
vacation. That bird was the most affected of all by far.
At times I feel guilty because I am taking up so much space on the
Internet. What if cyber space gets full before our little ones even
learn to type? And goldfish and squirrels and other small creatures will
never learn to type. That thought just makes me miserable.
Maybe I want
too much. I am leading two lives, a virtual web life and a non-virtual webless real life, while others have no lives—like Mrs. Wethers’ cat.
Yes, now that I think of it she asked me to feed her cat, not a bird. No
matter now.
This whole blogging thing has grown out of control. I used to enjoy
reading my blog, but now whenever I look at it, all I see are red lines
saying that I spelled something wrong. Or a green line saying fragment.
Should I stop? I wouldn’t even know how to go about it. Do I need to get
something signed by the Webmaster (would a portal master do?)? Do I push
one of those crazy buttons with a picture on it at the top of my
keyboard? I have no idea what any of those are. I definitely do not want
to push the wrong one and accidentally delete the world wide web, or
even just the internet for that matter.
There are still some great blogs
out there that are guiding the rising generation. Blogs that provide the
courage to forego college and instead become American Idol contestants,
run a celebrity gossip blog, or perform other necessary duties that we
depend on to keep America running.
And when it is all said and done, that is what I want. I want my blog to
keep America up and running. And perhaps maybe, just maybe, that’s
exactly what it has been doing. Since I’ve started my blog, America has
kept all fifty or so of its states and has produced some great
television shows (spin-offs of British shows).
Is that just coincidence?
I cannot take the risk. I will continue my blog. I will continue it for
America, for great television, and in memory of Mrs. Wethers’ bird or
cat.
http://chadhatfield.blogspot.com
© Copyright
by author, used with permission by Humor Press. No unauthorized reproduction or redistribution is allowed.
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 Some
Like It Hot
By Audrey D. Mark, North Carolina
I felt it was good karma showing me a
sign. A small plastic one, in fact, outside a Bikram hot yoga studio
reading “ 10 classes for $10”. Wow, with a deal like that I could reach
all the way to Nirvana without stretching my wallet. I took a leap of
faith and signed up.
I try to live by the motto, “Never let them see you sweat”, so when I
arrived for my first class, I planned to play it cool. I'd obviously
never taken hot yoga before. The room was heated hotter then Hades,
somewhere north of 105 degrees. A few minutes of warm-up stretching, and
I was already vaporizing. I tried to pass it off as my “aura”.
The instructor said that we’d start with some breathing. “Cool”, I
thought. I’ve been doing that on my own for years! But as he clapped out
a quick count for us to draw deep cleansing breaths in - while raising
our elbows to our ears and pushing our chins back with our fists - I
suddenly struggled to remember which way was exhale.
At that point I should have read the Sanskrit writing on the wall. This
wasn’t going to be one of those relaxing yoga classes with rhythmic
drumming and Yanni playing softly in the background. No, this was hot
yoga from Hell and my chakras were in for a quite a shock.
We were told to gaze only at ourselves in the mirror. I tried to
convince myself that the chubby red-faced reflection staring back at me
was merely the result of an unfortunate combination of unflattering
lighting and a “fat mirror”. However, from the corner of my eye, I
noticed a lineup of lithe beauties effortlessly contorting their hot
“yoga bodies” into positions that seemed to defy the laws of nature. You
could have put a “1” in front of any of their dress sizes and mine would
still be considerably larger. I was sweating – they were perspiring. I
also noticed that the lighting and mirrors seemed to be working just
fine for them.
“Aha”, I panted, as I spotted a more mature woman across the room.
Perhaps a little “Sweatin’ to the Oldies” would pry me from my personal
pity party. But I could only watch in awe, as this svelte senior wrapped
her left leg around her right, at least three times, while twisting her
arms into some Escher inspired pose. With perfect balance, she lowered
her self to the ground on the tip of one toe. Blessed with the
flexibility of a Popsicle stick and the balance of a sack of kittens, I
stood clutching the bar on the back wall for dear life, wobbling like
Jell-o as I simply tried to stand on one foot.
It wasn’t until we went into the “Wind Removing Pose”, meant to
stimulate digestion and massage the colon, that I realized perhaps the
big bowl of raisin bran was not the breakfast of choice before a yoga
class.
As the session came to an end, it seemed that my kundalini hadn’t risen,
but rather melted into a puddle on the floor. However, I had gained a
higher understanding of the term “sweat equity”. If the human body is
comprised of 75% water, I estimated then at least half of me was now
being soaked up by the Tinkerbell towel covering my squishy mat. And
yet, even with that impressive water weight loss, the darn mirror still
made me look fat.
Ultimately, I enjoyed the classes and I felt great afterwards. However,
next time I’m trying something new! I’m checking out a slenderizing body
wrap spa that just opened up in town. They guarantee that I’ll be at
least 6 inches slimmer as I kick back and watch Dr. Phil on TV. Now
that’s a workout I can handle…no sweat!
www.AudreyDMark.com
© Copyright
by author, used with permission by Humor Press. No unauthorized reproduction or redistribution is allowed.
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 Last-Minute
Tax Deductions
By Diana Estill, Texas
Every year I search for tax deductions to lower my bill to Uncle Sam.
So far, the best way I’ve found to escape paying federal income tax is
to remain unemployed.
But if you were smarter than me and you actually earned something last
year, it’s time to get creative. Don’t worry about getting audited. If
your computers are like mine, they’ll crash sometime within the next 24
months—and then you can just tell the I.R.S. that you’re unable to
locate your records. They won’t care. But you can tell them this anyway.
I didn’t earn anything last year, after I accounted for all my valid
deductions. By the time I subtracted for my costs of paper, printing
supplies, and decent quality Merlot (You don’t think I can write this
stuff without alcohol, do you?), I didn’t make a profit.
In fact, my auditor husband tallied my expenses just so he could prove
that my financial contributions have been, to be generous, nonexistent.
According to him, if I stay on course and continue to work hard, by age
65, I might achieve a positive cash flow.
My spouse doesn’t understand why I purchase thousands of dollars’ worth
of books every year. I try to explain that I need to compare my writing
style to those who are making money. But he thinks I should spend more
time at the library, despite the fact that our community doesn’t have
one. And he can’t fathom why I need a Web presence when my own family
members refuse to read my columns, which is exactly the point.
Still, it would be nice to feel valued for what I produce—which is why
I’m begging you to consider me for any last-minute tax write-offs you
might need. I know you’re thinking that all charity deductions had to
have been made before year end. But I’m perfectly okay with backdated
checks.
I’ll also accept leftover holiday gift cards and unexpired free meal
coupons. Please send your donations to the Save the Humor Columnist
Fund, a U4(c) my scam corporation, c/o Totally Skewed Productions, 555
Obscure Lane, Nowhere, TX, 77890. All contributions are fully tax
objectionable.
Additionally, you may purchase my book, Driving on the Wrong Side of the
Road, and claim it as a tax deduction—provided you can invent some
business reason for owning it. *
* Consult your tax advisor before making any stupid decisions. Actual
deductions may vary. Past audit evasions are not valid predictors of
future detection. Not suitable for persons under age 12, individuals who
are laugh-impaired, oxygen-deprived, or for those who are taking mood
inhibitors. Do not read while driving, operating heavy machinery, or
text messaging. Some thinking could be required. May cause sudden
excitability, unexpected oral emissions, snorting, frequent howling, and
abdominal cramps. Should any of these symptoms occur, stop reading and
immediately notify your book club.
http://www.TotallySkewed.com
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