Category: humor

My Favorite Animal

My Favorite Animal

By |

My mom sent me this story. You may have already seen it — it may not even be true — but I hadn’t seen it, and it makes me laugh every. single. time. So, here you go:

Our teacher asked us what our favorite animal was, and I said, “Fried chicken.”

She said I wasn’t funny, but she couldn’t have been right, because everyone else in the class laughed.

My parents told me to always be truthful and honest, and I am. Fried chicken is my favorite animal. I told my dad what happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA. He said they love animals very much. I do, too. Especially chicken, pork and beef.

Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal’s office. I told him what happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.

The next day in class my teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was.

I told her it was chicken. She asked me why, just like she’d asked the other children, so I told her it was because you could make them into fried chicken.

She sent me back to the principal’s office again. He laughed, and told me not to do it again. I don’t understand. My parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn’t like it when I am.

Today, my teacher asked us to tell her what famous person we admire most.

I told her, “Colonel Sanders.” Guess where I am now…

A Goldberg File Sample

A Goldberg File Sample

By |

As I noted on Twitter, it seems that Jonah Goldberg stopped publicly archiving his weekly “Goldberg File” at about the same time he quit letting pictures of himself be taken. That being so, if you want to read this (mostly) weekly , hilarious commentary on… well who can really say, you have to subscribe. However, this description of his most recent trip to the theater (the pedestrian Main Street kind, not the swanky/snobby uptown kind. Not that that there’s anything wrong with that) is a great example of what to expect from it, and is too funny not to share. Without giving away the punchline, having been burned before, I understand his trepidation:

Dear Reader (and those readers who are not dear and those who are dear but who do not read),

The last time I went to the movies to see an adult film . . . er, I should say the last time I was in the theater to see a film for adults. As far as I can tell, they haven’t had adult theaters since On Golden Blonde was on the big screen.

Anyway, the last time I saw a non-animated movie in the theater, I saw True Grit. The Fair Jessica and I had a matinee movie date.

Before the movie started, there was a preview for a movie coming out later this year. At first it seemed to be like a big-budget film on the Moon Landing (I am choosing to capitalize that, like it or not), mixing archival footage with new stuff. The words “Our Nation’s Proudest Moment” flash on the screen. So far so good. Then, when Neil Armstrong lands on the moon, a new phrase appears: “A Secret Hidden for Forty Years.”

Uh-oh. What’s this? I thought. Intriguing. Exciting. Maybe someone in Hollywood has read one of my weekly letters and is finally making the movie “The Trial of Capricorn One,” an awesome sequel to the forgotten O. J. Simpson classic.

Then, we see real footage of Walter Cronkite telling viewers that the crew is on the “far side of the moon” and thus out of radio contact. Then the boss at Mission Control (more questionable capitalization!) tells Neil Armstrong and Buzz Aldrin that “the mission is a go.” They have 21 minutes to check out something cool.

Oh, man, this looks great.

Suspense builds like a Sim City metropolis called “Suspense” created by an introverted South Korean kid with asthma, a broken leg, and rich parents. The astronauts moon-trot over a lunar ridge to find the massive wreck of a spaceship. Coolness! They start exploring it. More drama! Excitement!

Self, this is a movie I’m going to see, I said to myself.

My wife looks over to see me nodding as if a waiter just asked me if I like cold beer and ribs.

Then: Four of the most disheartening words in all of cinema appeared on the screen. You know of what I speak.

“From Director Michael Bay.”

Suddenly, the bowels stew like a forgotten fondue pot left too long over a lit can of Sterno.

Oh dear Lord, I know where this is going, I say as I look for the eject button on the arm rest.

Too late.

It’s a preview for Transformers III.

No Christmas in DC This Year

No Christmas in DC This Year

By |

I was sent this news and thought I’d pass it along here:

There will be no Nativity Scene in Washington this year!

The Supreme Court has ruled that there cannot be a Nativity Scene in the United States’ Capital this Christmas season. This isn’t for any religious reason. They simply have not been able to find Three Wise Men in the Nation’s Capitol. A search for a Virgin continues. There was no problem, however, finding enough asses to fill the stable.

 
 
National Coffee Day

National Coffee Day

By |

It’s National Coffee Day, so I thought I’d (re)share the Beantat Creed:

It is by coffee alone I set my mind in motion.
It is by the beans of java that thoughts acquire speed,
the hands acquire trembling,
the trembling becomes a warning.
It is by coffee alone I set my mind in motion

Giving Up Chocolate

Giving Up Chocolate

By |

From an email:

I was walking down the street when I was accosted by a particularly dirty and shabby-looking homeless woman who asked me for a couple of dollars for dinner.

I took out my wallet, got out ten dollars and asked, ‘If I give you this money, will you buy chocolate with it instead of dinner?’

‘No, I had to stop eating chocolate years ago’, the homeless woman told me.

‘Will you use it to go shopping instead of buying food?’ I asked.

‘No, I don’t waste time shopping,’ the homeless woman said.. ‘I need to spend all my time trying to stay alive.’

‘Will you spend this on a beauty salon instead of food?’ I asked.

‘Are you NUTS!’ replied the homeless woman. I haven’t had my hair done in 20 years!’

‘Well, I said, ‘I’m not going to give you the money. Instead, I’m going to take you out for dinner with my husband and me tonight.’

The homeless Woman was shocked. ‘Won’t your husband be furious with you for doing that? I know I’m dirty, and I probably smell pretty disgusting.’

I said, ‘That’s okay. It’s important for him to see what a woman looks like after she has given up shopping, hair appointments, and chocolate.’

A Priest’s Last Request

A Priest’s Last Request

By |

An old priest who for years had faithfully served the people of the nation’s capital, lay dying in the hospital. He motioned for his nurse to come near.

“Yes, Father?” said the nurse.

“I would really like to see Barack Obama and Joe Biden before I die,” he whispered.

“I’ll see what I can do, Father,” replied the nurse, and she respectfully forwarded the request to the DNC and waited for a response.

Surprisingly, soon the word arrived. Obama and Biden would be delighted to visit the priest.

As they made their way to the hospital, Obama commented to Biden, “I don’t know why the old priest wants to see us, but the media coverage will certainly help our images.”

Biden couldn’t help but agree.

When they arrived at the priest’s room, the priest took Biden’s hand in his right hand and Obama’s hand in his left. There was silence and a look of serenity on the ancient cleric’s face.

Finally Biden spoke, “Father, of all the people you could have chosen, why did you choose us to be with you as you near the end?”

Taking a deep breath, the old priest painfully replied, “I have always tried to pattern my life after our Lord and Savior.”

“Amen,” said Obama.

“Amen,” said Biden.

The old priest continued, “He died between two lying thieves and I would like to do the same.”

(H/T to Are We Lumberjacks)

No Tie July Alternative

No Tie July Alternative

By |

Every summer, a lot of churches have what they call No Tie July. The basic idea is this: “It’s hot out there! Let’s dress a little more coolly.” Overall, I think it’s a fine thing to do (especially since I don’t often wear a tie in the other 11 months). I would like to propose, though, a companion event for the youth, who, as a group, don’t often wear ties. To help them feel plugged in to church life, then, I propose this:

No Thigh July

I have to be honest with you, I’m a bit tired of walking down the halls and seeing legs bared as if in preparation for a Nair commercial.  I’ve even seen some young…um… ladies wearing shorts so short that they could not modestly bend over. The Body doesn’t need to see so much of yours.

Earth Days Makes Me… Red!

Earth Days Makes Me… Red!

By |

I hate Earth Day.  For some reason, the Hollywood better-than-yous feel the need to scatter across the country telling me how we’re destroying the planet, all the while living the other 364.2425 days in giant mansions, flying in private jets, and driving Hummers.  Sure, as Christians, we should all be good stewards of the planet, but Earth Day, and the week of “green” nonsense that comes with it, grates more than a Barbra Streisand song.  As a nice antidote, I present to you (with apologies for a touch of coarser content), Louis Black: