You know how sometimes 2-ply toilet paper gets fucked up and one ply rolls off like it's supposed to but the other one doesn't so you give the roll a 1/2 forward turn and a backspin as many times as necessary until the squares line up?
That's kinda how I feel about comedy pieces.
They're more taboo each day—jokes. We see the same headlines. You know it's bad when it's cool to go public with war and death and presidential indictment opinions, pitch a flag in favor of so and so, my God's cooler than yours and march on Capitol Hill in the name of free speech just don't say anything that starts with knock-knock.
Who's there?
Now, add the virtual aspect; no hand gestures, facial expressions, other body language or audience gauging. Click.click click click.click.click click click.click just thumbing through shit until the squares line up.
Hello.
= }
I put together a work bench recently. I'm getting pretty good at one-handed shenanigans, thing turned out real nice. Eight feet by 30 inches by three feet high. Can't do anything without a bench—obstacle park for Atlas, hang 12 feet of cabinets above it, rebuild the carburetor on the sit-down.
Need a bench.
I only wish I didn't use refurbished wood. I should've used nice, new wood. Anywho..
Finished, cleaned up, in chill mode and admiring my work when Pura (my wife for anyone tuned in for the first time) goes:
Why is it called a bench?
:long pause:
I didn't know what to say like the time I asked the little checker girl where the nearest shipping center is and she said, "by the big Dick's."
Dick's Sporting Goods, it's called, is an athletic department store that sells everything from shoe laces to submarines. I'm aware of that, now. There's only one Dick's in town, however, it's good size, I'll give her that but it's not big. I thought about my favorite one.
(Work bench)
The one at the fab shop on Route 66 with stash spots behind the legs or the metal one we built Travey with swivel chairs. Just about every crew on every job I've ever been on had a work bench, they're essential to getting anything done. Most of the fellas reading this have one now. Why in the world it's called a bench when clearly it's a got dang table is tougher to explain than a Halloween costume in The South.
I thought it was pretty obvious.
(Costume)
Walked in the Halloween party only to be intercepted by the hostess who informed me it's costume only.
MAGA hat made in the Philippines. Camouflage socks from Taiwan that say Freedom Ain't Free in white and a bright red Trump 2024 hoodie made in Honduras.
I'm an old white guy from The South!
What's worse than stepping in dog shit?
When it's not your dog.
Really, I have no idea why it's called a bench.
I saw a dude smoking a cigarette outside the emergency room doors at the hospital in a sweatshirt that said I Can't Breathe.
I can't. Make this up.
I won't let people touch my dog. No one. I say please don't and stop them before they get any closer. You'd be surprised how many parents send their small children who scream and yell and throw their arms around like small children running at the unfamiliar German Shepherd on a leash with a battery around her neck in a harness that says ᴡᴏʀᴋɪɴɢ in reflective letters.
Doggy!!!!!
I have to stop them.
Sucks.
Please, don't. I'm sorry. You should never approach a strange dog.
Now I'm the asshole.
Whatever. I'm good at it.
What I do see that seems to be not only acceptable but encouraged in waiting rooms and markets and other public places are strangers who approach unannounced to tickle the toddler in the stroller while mom's turned around bagging a pound of nuts.
Coochie coochie coo...
She turns to acknowledge the strange man enamored by her child. They smile back and forth because he's old and carry a conversation about the toddlers age and smell and hair and eyes and cute little bootie socks!! Coochie coochie coo he says while subjecting the baby's feet to his fingers.
Smile - smile. Nod - nod. Totally - acceptable.
That's not a joke. It's an observation.
Atlas, however, a four-legged animal who unlike a human I did not procreate but an only child nonetheless whom I love very much, totally Un - acceptable.
When dude circled back around the garden center at the hardware store and crouched down all low to the ground like creepy guy with Tesla coil fingers, I kicked him in the teeth.
That's a joke. I'm an asshole, not violent. Besides, last thing I need is to draw attention to myself at the hardware store in the midst of an already suspect shopping list:
- Shovel
- Pick axe
- Large black trash bags
- Bleach
- Rubber gloves
The other day, Pura (same wife I had earlier), called me Blower Boy.
That's not a joke. I'm not gonna explain it—funnier that way.
Had enough?
I got more.
There's a notepad in here called Funny. It's got one-liners and reminders of something that made me laugh. What happens more often than not is, between the time I stopped whatever I was doing to write down what I laughed at and the time it's time to share said material, I forgot what it was anyway and all I have are punchlines.
Everywhere I go wants my email address and phone number and I draw more attention to myself by saying no than I would by giving it to them.
Who's bored the most, the person who wrote a review on the internet about a television series they streamed on the internet or the person who read it?
Raise your hand if you remember life without emojis.
Don't +1 me to a funeral, I'll embarrass us both.
Runners who catch a red signal light at the crosswalk and, rather than stop and wait for the light to turn green, they run in place as though their legs are twin diesel engines they can't shut off.
You know you're in my neighborhood when you sign into WiFi and one of your choices is WiFineThen.
Work bench.
I recently began this social experiment at the gym where when I see someone claim a piece of equipment, I wait until they're comfortable and then go tell them I was just about to use that one and then go back to what I was doing.
People who think their virtual stake matters in real life.
I never really understood the difference between comedy and rant.
I'd probably get beat up for staring if I went in public not high.
American public education in 3.. 2..
When'd they change Turkey to Türkiye?
They were dry which means they're unprotected therefor I was not trespassing. Unlike the following dog toy, that sign is confusing.
FOR PET USE ONLY in BIG CAPITAL LETTERS just in case toy aisle and pet store weren't clear indications, I scream.
Mhm.
A lot of development went into that container. One person didn't say "red and pink stripes on all the quart-sized ice creams, black aerial font, next!"
Takes a village to raise a container.
Board meeting; floor to ceiling windows overlooking the Bay Bridge. Big oval desk holding up about 20 coffee cups and a tray of fresh bagels Ben De'Pier can smell all the way down in mail.
Marketing editor, Lena Littlewright, said pink and white cuz it's peppermint flavored and pink and white are festive colors to which Philip Herman, lead head consultant, suggested red instead.
They came together and agreed.
The remaining board made some last minute probes, a few swaps here and there, passed around the final version for all 20 members to put their stamp of approval on and off goes the new peppermint ice cream graphic concept to the design department.
Harry Underlim in design received notification—e mail: Urgent, it's titled. Harry's breathed life into boardroom decisions for 30 years.
Together, alongside Aliza Boutschidt, Betty Nevershard and Gabe O'Brien, the concept came alive—candy cane ice cream!
Next stop, printing. Then, production, until finally down the assembly line it goes—filled to the rim with candy cane ice cream and distributed throughout the country where each store chain received the semi truck that delivered the pallet of ice cream who then priced it, inspected for defects, stocked and sent it to the shelf for sale and not one person said 3 times 290 is not 880.
When's the President gonna have tattooed hands?
I'll be 50 in a couple years and my most played playlists are still rap. Shouldn't be much longer til POTUS is inaugurated in a Box Chevy.
Show me a candidate with sleeves and I'll register to vote.
You haven't lived until you've spent an afternoon in the frozen food section at a Walmart in The South.
I don't buy anything. I'm there for the entertainment. There's a Belk next door, Pura (still the same one) shops for clothes there. I have her drop me off at Walmart and off to the ice cream aisle goes me!
I love Belk!
Last time, I watched a whole family; husband / wife, three kids, one in the seat, another inside the basket and a third riding it like a skateboard fight about grandmas ice cream. It was great.
Chocolate fudge!
Screaming. Pointing.
She said Rocky Road!
No she did not, chocolate! Chaaaawkliiiit!!
They got one of each. Then, I followed them to frozen pizza for the main course when Pura (I know, she's everywhere) made my phone vibrate right in the middle of the show.
Holiday season now, Black Friday and all that. Not sure when I'll make it back for the ending.
