Monday, November 28, 2011
Hi there! Breathing okay? Good. We'll just clean you up a little and you'll be good to go. That soft spot in the middle of your skull should firm up real quick, so don't worry about that. And, let's see, what else can we tell you on your way out? First, nobody knows what's going on. Anybody who says they do is stupid or lying. Take care of your teeth. Wear comfortable shoes. Be careful about the first few things you do, because that's what you're going to be doing over and over again for the rest of your life.
Posted by Dave Maleckar at 7:12 AM 2 comments:
Monday, November 21, 2011
If you had only known. Midget Racing is noisy and unpleasant and the drivers are ordinary sized people. It turns out sweetbreads are neither sweet, nor are they bread. You're pretty sure you would have remembered if somebody had mentioned the word pancreas. Is that the sort of thing a person is expected to know? How could you have forgotten how much you dislike playing Monopoly? If you'd only read the fine print. If you'd only listened in class. If you'd only known she'd grow up to be a morbidly obese Shoney's waitress, you might not have named her Hyacinth.
Posted by Dave Maleckar at 8:46 AM No comments:
Monday, November 14, 2011
Even Educated Fleas
We've all seen those bumper stickers that explain the appropriately puntastic ways in which members of a specific demographic clade “do it.” They are remarkably unfunny, and also if you then pass the vehicle to which they adhere, the driver is usually revealed to be someone with whom you could not remotely imagine doing “it” even if said human was dipped in nectar and rolled in cocaine. Assuming, of course, that “it” means what I think it means. This is all a clumsy setup for two great bumper sticker ideas: “Prostitutes do it for money,” and “Literalists eschew coy euphemisms.”
Posted by Dave Maleckar at 7:24 AM No comments:
Monday, November 7, 2011
Daylight Saving Time was the invention of one G.V. Hudson, an English-born New Zealand entomologist and postal clerk whose collection of insects, the largest in New Zealand, is housed in the Museum of New Zealand Te Papa Tongarewa, and who was furthermore a member of the 1907 Sub-Antarctic Islands Scientific Expedition, a voyage which led to the rescue of the survivors of the shipwreck of the Dundonald, who had initially subsisted on the raw flesh of the mollymawk, a medium-sized albatross with a distinctive salt gland above the nasal passage that excretes a saline solution from the nose. Wikipedia, baby.
Posted by Dave Maleckar at 6:43 AM 1 comment:
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