Shakespeare

My love has gone to India for a couple of weeks. This saddens me to no end. I can't wait for her to come home. Simona I miss you.

The Autumn of Apu

Apu: Well hello Mr. Homer, what brings you to my store?

Homer: Well Apu the softball team wanted me to talk to you.

Apu: Oh? What about?

Homer: Well, frankly your numbers are falling.

Apu: Nothing to worry about Homer ol’ buddy, it’s just a dry spell. The balls will start dropping and when they do you just watch that batting average of mine soar!

Homer: Well that’s just the thing Apu, you don’t seem to be hitting those hard line drives anymore, not like you used to when you were…you know.

Apu: When I was what?

Homer: You’re gonna make me say it? Fine, when you were taking steroids alright!

Apu: I’m not doing it anymore. I swore I’d only use human growth hormones to heal from my elbow injury quicker. That was a long time ago.

Homer: Well it’s also been a long time since you lead all catchers in the league in every offensive category.

Apu: That’s not fair!

Homer: There’s no reason you can’t have numbers like that again. All you have to do is take the drugs Apu, come on everyone is doing it.

Apu: What about my defense? That’s got to count for something.

Homer: Listen, Nelson is in the wings, ready to take over for you at catcher if you don’t do something drastic here.

Apu: Nelson! I threw out 38% of would be base stealers last year. When has Nelson even come close to that?

Homer: It doesn’t matter man! He’s using HGH and you know what? -he’s hitting the cover off the ball. Homerun after homerun! The guy’s a machine who cares who throws out more runners! Look it’s this simple, get your numbers up or you’re out.

Apu: Please, don’t take this away from me. Playing catcher for the Springfield Isotopes softball team is my life!

Homer: Sorry, it’s out of my hands.

Homer takes a bite from his donut and turns to leave.

Apu: Homer, that donut is $10.25.

Homer: D’oh!

Quinceañera

People having birthdays always reminds me of the passing of time. As my friends get older, my generation gets older and little tidbits of common knowledge slowly pass into oblivion. A thousand years after we all expire, “May the force be with you”, Jackie Robinson and my mom singing “Las mañanitas” on my birthday when I was a kid will be forgotten by both humans and their evil robot overlords. The same fate awaits, “Where’s the Beef”, the San Francisco Giants
and Stand by R.E.M.

Could be worse.

Fire!

Once, three overweight, right-winged Republicans with racists backgrounds and a penchant for war found themselves about to face a Spanish firing squad. They were as dumb as they were ugly, each one dumber then the first, but being resourceful tools of the devil they uncharacteristically managed to come up with a plan of escape; a plan well beyond their usual capacity for inspiration.


The first Republican was called up on Monday. The Spanish firing squad leveled their weapons. “Ready.” The Spanish commander bellowed, “Aim.” Just then the firstRepublican pointed behind the firing squad and yelled, “Tornado!” The squad panicked, ran in each and every direction, found a heavy bathtub located in the basement and huddled close to each other for safety. Meanwhile, the first Republican casually sauntered away, free to rape and pillage the world’s poor and underpaid.

The next day, the Spanish firing squad still feeling unnerved by the tornado which swept through the fort the night before, faced the second Republican. The squad commander again raised his sword for his ritualistic chant, “Ready. Aim.” At this time the second Republican seized upon the inspiration of his comrade and yelled, “Earthquake!” The Spanish firing squad dropped their weapons and again ran in desperate search, this time of a heavy table or doorway in which to hide under. Again, the Republican walked awaycasually, rubbing his hands together perhaps thinking of new ways to deny poor children medical care.

On the third day, the firing squad was not feeling so well having not been able to kill anyone since Sunday. Today was their day, they hoped, the wrath of mother Nature shall not interfere. The third Republican, the dimmest of the bunch, was brought before them. With a squeak in his voice the commander said sheepishly, “Ready. Aim.” The third Republican was no dummy. He had watched his brothers fool these Spaniards before, surely he could do the same. So with his best fear impersonation he pointed behind the firing squad and screamed the most horrific natural disaster he could possibly think of, “Fire!”

The firing squad pulled their triggers and the third Republican died slowly.

That joke, courtesy of the 5^th grade.

Crap for Sale

Crap for sale!
Useless, meaningless crap for sale.
Crap that’s used and slightly rusted.
Crap that may be a little busted.
Crap for sale!
Who will buy?
Who will take a pan that doesn’t fry?
Who is prepared to spend some cash
For a blanket that’ll give you a rash?
Crap for sale!
Let the stores sell their wares
With their overprices
I will deal used teddy bears,
And electrical devices.
If you want the thrill of a sale
Without the big fat bill of sale.
Old crap, used crap,
Creaky, broken, bruised crap.
Crap for sale!