Busy Lives

We all have busy lives and look for ways to save time.
Here’s what I do-
1- I wash my fruits and vegetables when I shower.
2- Also while I shower, I wear clothes that need washing.
3- I cook all my meals for the month at the same time. Then I don’t reheat.
4- I haven’t bought clothes since I was 20. Everything is too small, but I make do.
5- I have an artificial Christmas Tree. It’s been up for 15 years.
6- I clean the house using a leaf blower and blowing the dirt out the windows.
What do you do to save time?


My Dad has a full head of hair but wears a toupee so he doesn’t have to comb his real hair.

Lonely Dog

I have a dog and he looked lonely so I got him a goldfish. He feeds the fish and changes the water. He’s not lonely anymore.

First Date

Dating was difficult for me. Women did not like it when I’d show up in my shorts, asking for something to wear.


He knocked on the front door to pick up his date.
The girl’s father answered.
“You dare try and seduce my daughter you Chinese filth!” he screamed, pointing a gun at him.
“No, sir, no. It’s nothing like that,” he said. “We’re just going to the mall. Please sir, I mean no harm. And I’m not Chinese.” He backed away from the old man.
“Don’t you talk to me you French scum! You want to get my daughter drunk so you can take advantage of her!” He fired some shots into the air.
“I wasn’t going to do any such thing,” he pleaded. “I wasn’t going to lay a hand on your daughter. Now please put down that gun. Somebody might get hurt. And I’m also not French.”
“You Italian degenerate! You expect me to believe that? You come to my home to get my daughter and you’re not going to try anything? Do you think I’m an idiot?” he screamed, shooting the gun off several more times.
“No sir, you’re not an idiot. Just mistaken. Like when you called me an Italian. I’m not.”
“You’re a Polish rapist and I’m going to kill you!” He fired the gun directly at him. “I’m not Polish!” he shouted, jumping behind a tree.
“I intend to make an example of your death to all Japanese garbage. You can’t expect to lay a hand on my daughter and get away with it.”
“And I’m not Japanese either!”
“So you’re from Argentina?”

International Holiday

Today is “International Cannibal Day”. Celebrate with a good friend!

Arms Control

I appeared before a joint session of Congress today to give my thoughts on arms control.

“Firstly, let us not be confused with the meaning of ‘Arms Control’. I am not referring to countries and their weapons, instead I am calling attention to ‘Arms’ control as in
the control of those limbs which shoot out from the shoulders.
I am a person who suffers from such control, or lack thereof. Strangers, dozens, possibly hundreds, have been needlessly surprised when my arms have expectedly positioned themselves around their necks in an attempt at strangulation. No apology is ever enough and the nicest coffin doesn’t gain forgiveness either.
“And it doesn’t stop there. Without proper ‘arms control’ there can never also be ‘hand control’. Since they are connected and affected by the actions of the arms, how can there ever be a correct choice in picking socks? You may want blue, but if your hands shoot for brown, need I say more? You’re wearing brown.
“I do not consider this topic minor as it would be a fair guess that most men never really consider the best socks to wear. Or even pants for that matter. Consider, if pants are not being used correctly, around the waist and legs they are usually being worn as a shirt. (It’s very uncomfortable having the zipper around your throat.) The affected men awaken in the morning, disoriented, frightened by the sight of their wives, wash and stumble into their clothes. Usually a suit is picked the evening before, but how it’s worn is decided by their affliction.
“Returning to the subject of socks, they are the most essential article of clothing a man wears. More important then even underwear! Men wearing properly chosen socks made all of the great speeches. No President would ever deliver an important speech wearing argyle socks. Presidents need clarity and focus. Argyle represents confusion. Who would trust a President that wore argyle? Certainly not me.”

Don’t Remember…

I wrote an article for a mental health journal-

Don’t remember…

I’ve spent much time dreaming about the future while having trouble remembering the past. People will ask, “Where did you attend high school?” First I will pause, struggling to understand the question thinking, “What is a ‘high school’?” My answer is always a “Yes” even though it doesn’t fit the question. Usually I just receive some odd glances, but once I answered “Yes” to a paternity question even though I didn’t know what “paternity” meant. (That cost me thousands of dollars.) I’ve always had a great memory. That is until recently, when I can’t remember whether or not that statement is true.
At my job, at least I think it’s my job, a colleague suggests that I “Think Positive!” I followed his advice and took a nap while flying my plane. Luckily my cat took over the controls and made a successful landing. (That’s what I was told by the police.)
In the evening I relaxed in my lawn chair with a thermos of coffee. (Earlier I was at the zoo and a gorilla gave me the thermos, which was unexpected. He usually gives me a can of soda.) The sky was very dark and clear. I spotted a bright light traveling in my direction. It came to a halt 20 feet above me. (I used a tape measure to check.) It wasn’t a flying saucer. It was a flying cup. The bottom of the cup opened and a large metal item dropped out crashing to the ground about 30 feet away from me. (I measured.) It was a car transmission. How did they know that I needed one? Actually that’s not all I need. I hope they come back and give me an engine and body. And not to forget the windshield and wipers.
It was my lucky day. At least I think it was my lucky day. I’m still waiting for the rest of the car.

Newspaper Article

I read this in the newspaper today-

Clifton, NJ – Recently, Howard Muller, a psychiatric patient at Clifton General Hospital, set fire to the piano in the activities room on the third floor.
Mr. Muller, who is suffering from “Religious Dementia” (more commonly known as the urge to sell God a pizza), started the fire after the piano refused his request to play “Swanee River”.
It seems that Mr. Muller misunderstood how the piano, which is a player piano, actually works. He believed that he only had to “ask it” to perform the song not knowing that the piano is operated by a computer.
Born in San Francisco, he moved to New Jersey after the religious cult he joined relocated to Clifton. It was here that he claimed he also had psychic abilities. Mr. Muller, a white man, can predict the future if he is within 9 feet 10 inches of a black man. “It has something to do with the aura surrounding our 2 races,” he said. “When they combine at a certain distance it enables me to foresee the future.” Mr. Muller recently predicted the sinking of the Titanic before he had ever read about it in the history books.
Mr. Muller was admitted to Clifton General Hospital after he was found rubbing soft cheese all over his body while lying on a bed of crackers in the middle of a highway. No charges are to be filed.”


Everyone wants a roof over their heads but no one ever asks for walls.