Category Archives: Humor

Musical Monday — Looking Out My Back Door

Looking Out My Back Door
by Surfer Rob

Hey
It’s me again
Your little talking friend
From the planet in your head
I’d
Like to propose a toast
To the humble host
Of all the crazy shit
That’s been running through my yard

It’s been a while
since we’ve felt like this
a lot of lingering love
from a literary kiss
It’s got me thinking
and I’m thirsty for more
of singing “doo doo doo”
looking out my back door

Hey
is that a flying car?
maybe you’ve gone too far
or maybe it doesn’t matter
It’s
not a DeLorean
Maybe I’ll get me one
when I’m making fat checks
writing for TV
there’s killer robots there
they’re flying through the air
and mopping up rebel meatbags
And
they’re not the only ones
’cause blotting out the sun
is an all-consuming ooze
made from future processed foods!
I know it’s crazy but just give it time
while purple plant people plot
to plunder your mind,
until they’re Roundup Ready
and we’re runnin’ to shore
a-singin “doo doo doo”
looking out my back door

(cue the face melting guitar solo)

(outro riff with some tribal tom beats)

singing “doo doo doo”
looking out my back door
 


 
There you go. I wrote you a song, bringing back the nostalgia of 90’s alternative pop (if you hear it the way I do, something akin to Jimmy Eat World) with a little nod to Creedence.
 
Happy Monday!

Stuck for an idea? Try today’s Daily Post prompt.

Daily Haiku 2014.05.02 —

Lone tree in lava #2
(Image credit: Ed Suominen @ Flickr)

dauntless tree —
a pioneer
breaking new ground

 


Today has been a good day. I got up and exercised, went to work, and got off at 12:00. That’s 45 hours, a nice respectable workweek, in my opinion. I came home, took a good 45-minute run in intervals of 4 minute run, 1 minute walk, then took a shower. Now it’s the weekend.

I put a little Moroccan argan oil in my hair, then some of the coconut oil hair balm my friend Zach makes at home, and worked it in real good and watched as it magically formed the comb-over I love to sport when I’m just relaxing. Now that’s good stuff. I worked some tea tree oil into the scalp on the sides and back where my hair was shorn a couple weeks ago, to keep it from drying out.

Now I’m blogging. So what could possibly go wrong now? I’m home for the weekend, and I’ve got everything under control.

Or, almost everything. Tomorrow I’m somehow under obligation to walk around a large hall when it’s probably decent outside for the sake of the March of Dimes, which I know helps raise money for prematurely born babies, only I don’t see how my presence contributes. But that’s one little fly in the ointment. On the other hand, tomorrow is free comic book day, and I’m looking forward to free comic books . . . I might even purchase a new graphic novel, we will see.

I suppose there’s something that could go wrong. The worst possible thing.

The entire Universe might explode.

That could put a little damper on things — on the other hand, what if that’s not the worst possible thing that could happen?

Coincidentally, I was listening to a podcast today while on my run: Stuff to Blow Your Mind — The Habitable Epoch. The show’s hosts (Robert and Julie) were talking about the big bang, and the mind-blowing thought of all of time and space being compressed into a singularity. Robert said something to the effect of, “there is nothing before the Big Bang.”

Then I thought, what if there was? What if there’s something outside of our Universe that we can’t observe because of the expansion of space? In the first thirty seconds after the Big Bang, the Universe expanded faster than the speed of light. Got that? Faster.

Therefore it turns out that the Universe has already exploded, and it’s going to be some time before it slows down enough — and we speed up enough — that we are able to send a probe beyond the limits of space and time.

Worst-case scenario: debunked —

and thus the adventure continues.  🙂

 

Haiku: Cards Against Humanity

Cards Against Humanity

Ronald Reagan campaigning with Nancy Reagan in...
(Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Ronald Reagan
surprise sex!
Exactly what you’d expect.


Funny story: I’m playing a game with friends called “Cards Against Humanity”, and I draw this black card that says “make a haiku.” Weird, right?? You guys know me! Then I realized that I didn’t post a haiku today. This is destiny, I decided.So . . . This is the haiku that won the round. Needless to say, it doesn’t follow the haiku rules, but I laughed so hard I almost cried; okay, I did cry a little. But I couldn’t stop laughing.

I’ll find a picture later. Stop back if you’re intrigued.

😉

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Getting Rich and the Tribble Epidemic

What if you had a billion dollars, free and clear – what would you do with that? Continue reading Getting Rich and the Tribble Epidemic

Planet Janet, I love you!

How would you go about designing your own planet? Continue reading Planet Janet, I love you!

A little mind-twister on random kindnesses

Do you keep track of your so-called “random acts of kindness”? Continue reading A little mind-twister on random kindnesses

Funny: Inflected Proposal

I made a funny: Continue reading Funny: Inflected Proposal

And you wonder why there’s a budget crisis on . . .

“Ladies and gentlemen.

I, Doctor Phileas Foggwazzle, M.E., Ph.D., P.C., volunteer in the R.F.D. and esteemed member of the local rotary; hereby present to you all an invention, of my design and manufacture, to reverse pollution of all manner and kind.” He pointed the remote and a projected image lit up the faces of the board members.

THE DISSEMBLER DRONE

20131214-101138.jpg

“Alone, a single dissembler drone is capable of rendering any substance down to its basic constituents at the atomic level using the power of the electromagnetic force. Deployed as a swarm, the dissembler drones are able to quickly break down large quantities of pollutants, thereby guaranteeing future generations a world free from environmental hazards and irritants; ensuring that air and water will be clean, dirt will be as clean as it is possible for dirt to be, and that animal husbandry may continue unabated by concerns of undesirable greenhouse gas production. In addition, hippies will finally be able to stop protesting polluters and may subsequently find some time to take a shower.

The dissembler drones are nearly ready for full deployment. Unfortunately, the field testing did not go exactly as planned; it was revealed that a small oversight concerning the different textbook applications of the term ‘pollution’ might have caused the drone swarm to render my lab and factory down to an eight inch thick layer of atomic sediment. However, cleanup efforts are in full swing and we will be back in production at the end of the month – provided we are able to secure a small grant to supplement the insurance money.”

“Doctor . . . Fogsworth, is it?” The gentleman at the head of the table looked over the top of the thin pamphlet in his hand.

“Foggwazzle.”

“Doctor Foggwazzle.” He smiled as though he thought the old man senile. “This is an intriguing design and I’m sure it would be a huge benefit to the entire planet, but uh . . . why come to the Nevada State commission for a science grant? Isn’t there a more appropriate institution to fund your venture?”

“Oh, the answer is simple, Mr. Blume.” The doctor began to pace slowly as he spoke in measured tones. “Las Vegas is known for it’s wealth . . . of light, and sound. Some might even call those . . . pollutants.” He gave the board a sheepish grin.

Blume’s eyes narrowed. He was starting to make connections; the doctor continued. “My drone swarm is heading this way right now, and it will render all of the strip in less than a day. Seventeen-point-four hours, to be more exact. Now I have this remote -” he held it up. “It will turn the swarm away. But I can not do this without some . . . modest financial assistance.”

Blume spoke slowly. This had to be a joke. “How modest are we talking about?”

“Oh,” the doctor looked up at the ceiling. “Twenty billion should do the trick.” His gaze returned to Blume, eyes widely innocent.

“That sounds more like a ransom than a grant-”

“Ah!” The doctor threw his hands up. “You got me! This is a ransom.” He rolled his eyes. “I can’t fool you, can I?” His image fizzled briefly, then changed. The long white coat was replaced by jeans and a heavy, black turtleneck. The iron-grey hair rippled, turning black, and the scraggly, white chin stubble became the dark triangle of a neatly-groomed goatee. His eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his expression serene; he now resembled a cross between Perry Mason and Carl Sagan.

Every one of the board members recognized this man, doubtless from his picture in the papers and on the television news. Someone gasped loudly. “Doctor Malevski!” The older lady next to Mr. Blume shot up out of her seat, then smacked Blume smartly on the back of the head. “I can’t believe you fell for a stupid name like Foggwazzle!”

Blume shrank back from her, protecting his head with upraised hands. “How could I not?”

“My dear lady,” he had to hurry this up – things to do. “What matters is that my swarm of dissembler drones will gladly return Las Vegas to the desert. Now, you have approximately three hours before they arrive, so think fast or this will merely be the first stop on a cross-country trip to New York City. You’ll find an account number printed on the back of your pamphlets – deposit the money and Vegas will be spared.”

The room resounded with stunned silence. Malevski pointed to his watch.

“Three hours. Ish.”

Malevski vanished.


This post was prompted by today’s Daily Post prompt.

Hopping Madness

I have this amazing ability: Continue reading Hopping Madness

Regal, but not respected: my life as a predator

Not a cowardly lion
(Photo credit: Saucy Salad) (Lion says, “I’ll give YOU a saucy salad.”)

I work my tail off.

That’s not to say I’m not having fun sometimes, but really – okay, so my tail isn’t really falling off, but it has narrowly escaped a few near-manglings; one time it was almost chomped off by a sneaky old crocodile! I don’t know if they realize that I can’t grow the tail back, or that I need to keep it. My tail is part of what makes me fast and efficient.

Most don’t realize that I am fast and efficient, or so hard-working; they complain that all I do is lie around in the sun all day. Do they not realize how much heat I generate just by moving around? When it comes to eating around here, it’s catch as catch can, and oftentimes we eat just once every few days. So we eat a lot at once, and we try to save our energy for when we need it most. I’m trying to carry about thirty kilos of impala in my guts for up to half the week. Even then, we still have to worry about buffalo.

Don’t cross the buffalo; we’re told that literally the day we’re born. I remember my mother licking me clean, saying “don’t cross the buffalo, whatever you do. They’re easily confused, and meaner than Catholic school nuns”; so we avoid them like the plague, and they end up hating us because they think we’re snobs. Now that I’m old enough to understand where we’re going wrong in this whole situation, it’s really too late to do anything about it. It’s a vicious cycle, if you’ll pardon the cliche; and if it’s not buffalo it’s rhinos. If it’s not rhinos its crocs, or hyenas, or those bloody tsetse flies.

And don’t even get me started on elephants and humans. The intelligentsia of the animal world, the primates and the pachyderms; they’re just as bad as the rest, just as clueless to their intended roles.

No, I get a bad rap. We get a bad rap. Others, they think it’s all fun and tans and laying in the sand all day, but that’s really not it. Their thought processes are like radio static. “Look mate,” I say, “you just don’t get how much we have to work. All that laying around is hard work, love. You think we’re being lazy all day but you don’t stick around to see what happens when a zebra gets too close to where I’m lying in wait. Being the King, it’s not all fun and games, sometimes you have to wake up and smell the territorial markings, and that’s hard work too. It’s all about patience, vigilance, and above all, respect for the proper order of things. Sure, you’re safe now, but what are you – ten, twelve inches from my paws? I dare you to come and say it to my face.”

I’d challenge any one of them to spend a few days in my paws; that’s all I’m saying.


This post was prompted by this week’s What If? Writing Challenge. What if you gave it the old college try?

What if? Weekly writing challenge