What's So Funny?
Russell Gayer, author speaker
Gone with the Breeze
Tuesday afternoon, while driving across the endless plains known as Kansas, I noticed a sign hanging over the entrance to someone’s driveway. The sign read, “On this spot in 1897 nothing happened.”
I couldn’t wait to get home and tell my cousin, JB Hogan. As President of the Washington County Historical Society, this is the kind of information that makes him salivate like Pavlov’s dog. What followed was a lengthy exchange of emails discussing other places of non-interest where nothing ever happened. I encouraged JB to write a series of articles documenting these historical non-events to share with the world. Look for a three-volume tome to be released by early November, just in time for Christmas.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our curator of historical-fiction is the esteemed Gertrude Himmelfarb Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Phrett! Phrett, where are you going?
I’m going back to Oregon, back where I belong.
Please, please take me with you!
No, Snarlett, I’m through with everything here. I want peace. I want to see if somewhere there isn’t a damp, foggy, miserable stretch of forest that’s missing a Sasquatch. Do you know what I’m talking about?
No! I only know that I love you.
That’s your misfortune.
Oh, Phrett! Phrett… if you go, where shall I go, what shall I do?
Frankly, my dear, I suggest you shear your legs and back and start a Snarlett O’Harry sweater-of-the-month club.
__________________________________________________________
When I saw this photo I was instantly reminded of the Carol Burnett classic “Went With the Wind.” My version incorporates the Bigfoot culture that is so popular in America today.
In regards to the sign – “On this spot nothing happened,” rumor has it that a similar one hangs in Perry Block’s bedroom.
How Sweet the Sound
Last week I attended a class entitled “Personal Branding.” I’m sure all of you are familiar with giant global brands such as Coca Cola, Budweiser, and PerryBlock.com. Like me, some of you may be big fans of Lame Adventures Travel and enjoy guided tours of popular NYC subway benches and weekend cruises to sleepy Hackensack, NJ in a ’63 Impala (group rates available).
Did you know that YOU are a brand? Yes, it’s true. You may not have a logo, buy Super Bowl ads, or have your image on the side of a milk carton, but you still have a brand. It’s what people think of when your name is mentioned. What comes to mind when you hear these names; Charles Manson, Tiger Woods, Marge Simpson, and Jim Bob Duggar? If your brand is not what you want it to be there’s still time to create a better image. Who knows, you may be the next PerryBlock.com.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the brand famous for an Addiction to Purple crayons (but who always chews the wrappers off) is Periwinkle Plum Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
“The key is hidden in the gazebo.”
“How do we get to it?”
“Through the labyrinth.”
“Not me. The last time I went in there I wet my pants.”
“That was a long time ago. You were just a kid.”
“I don’t care. He’s still in there. One wrong turn and you’re in his clutches.”
“But you’re taller now. You can see over the top. There’s no way to get lost.”
“I’m not taking any chances.”
“It’s hard to imagine a woman your age still believes in monsters?”
“The Tickle Monster is real, I tell you.”
“You’re Amazing, Grace. Simply amazing.”
Weather Forecaster Found Dead
You may remember this one from last year. Or, if you’re like me, you’ve slept since then and care barely remember what you had for breakfast this morning. Either way, I couldn’t turn down Gordon’s family when they asked if I’d repost it.
SPRINGDALE, AR – The body of Gordon Dale Groundhog was found by a motorist yesterday afternoon on the side of Shady Grove Road. Authorities suspect he was the victim of a hit-and-run accident. The police report states there were no signs of skid marks on the pavement. Persons with information regarding this accident are urged to contact the Washington County Humane Society.
“I don’t mean to sound cruel or heartless,” said one local television meteorologist, ” but this couldn’t have happened at a worse time. Everyone was looking forward to seeing him drug from his burrow Monday morning and shook around like a rag doll in front of our cameras. Now, our long-range forecast is shot to hell.”
Four crows, two buzzards, and a possum have been assigned to remove the body. “We’re going to let him lie in state a few days,” said one of the crows (under the condition of anonymity). “We want to give family and friends plenty of time to pay their final respects–and allow the body to ripen–before we begin the disposal process.”
Drive-by services are scheduled for 2 pm this afternoon. Condolences may be sent to your local TV station–attn: Chief Meteorologist.
Rest in Peace
All Wired Up and Nowhere to Glow
I’ve always admired people who had wise quotations attributed to their name. The trick is to say something clever enough that others would care to repeat it and credit the author. Here are some examples of words of wisdom people have imparted to me.
- “Sit down and shut up!” ~ Mrs. Sticklebottom (elementary school teacher)
- “Absolutely not! Get away from me, you creep.” ~ Debra Jones (my first crush)
This got me thinking about how selfish I’d been by not sharing my wealth of wit and wisdom. Here are a couple of my more famous sayings, followed by one that’s yet to catch on. Feel free to quote me on any of these.
- “My nouns and verbs don’t always agree. Fistfights have been known to break out in mid-sentence.”
- “The last time I opened my trench coat to expose myself to knowledge, knowledge not only laughed—it impolitely pointed AND laughed.”
- “Today is the first day of the rest of your life. Make the most of it.”
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the building inspector who issues permits for 100 word stories is Electra “Shock Therapy” Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
The first seven weeks of winter had been brutal. Meteorologist searched as far back as records had been kept, but failed to find lower temperatures for an extended period of time.
“It’s the new ice age,” declared Hal Bore, a proponent of Global Warming.
But one man had a plan. Master Electrician, Ole Peterson, invented a giant, infrared heat lamp with enough power to warm the entire upper mid-west.
At dawn on February 2nd he was about to flip the switch when his partner, Sven, pulled the plug.
“Not today, Ole. Ve don’t vant de groundhog to see his shadow.”
Phishing for Chumps
Someone once asked my dad, “Pug, do you still go fishin’ as often as you used to?”
“No,” replied Dad, “I’ve cut back to once a day.”
I took Dad on his last fishing trip when he was 92. He died three years later.
Fisherman’s Prayer
Unknown
I pray that I may live to fish until my dying day.
And when it comes to my last cast, I then most humbly pray;
When in the Lord’s great landing net and peacefully asleep
That in His mercy I’ll be judged good enough to keep.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the game warden who’ll be measuring our tall tales to see if they stay within the 100 word limit is Gertrude “Guppy” Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
Junior thumbed through the dog-eared pages of his Bass Pro Shop catalog.
“Nadine, I’m gonna order me one of these boats and take up bass fishin’.”
“Junior, its 250 miles to the nearest river or lake. You ain’t gonna catch no bass out here.”
“You just watch.”
A week later, Junior launched his boat in waist-deep Kansas prairie grass and began fishing.
“Caught anything yet?” Nadine called from the back porch.
“Nope.”
“I knew you wouldn’t catch any bass out there.”
“Shut up, woman. And go back to your knittin’.”
“Junior, if I could swim, I’d come out there and kick your ass.”
It Ought to be a Crime
I think everyone ought to spend the night in jail at least once. It teaches a lesson in humility and gives you a whole new appreciation for many of the things we take for granted—like toilet paper. You also learn how to sleep with one eye open and that not all Asians are good at math.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the warden of the Grammar Correctional Facility for Wayward Writers is Bernice “The Baton Bearer” (or B.B., as we like to call her) Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
(to be read with a British accent)
Good evening, I’m Robin Leach.
Welcome to Lifestyles of the Rich and Infamous. Tonight we’ll take a behind the scenes look at celebrities serving hard time at the Ritz-Carlton Correctional Facility in beautiful Sun Valley, California.
Our hostess, that divine Diva in Orange, Martha Stewart, will share the secrets of designing a proper table setting in such squalid conditions.
After dinner, Robert Downey Jr. will give us the dope on which prison pharmaceuticals to avoid.
Then, we’ll join Bernie Madoff for the pros and cons of insider trading inside the joint.
And finally, Mike Tyson will tease the senses by nibbling your ear before saying goodnight.
Stay with us, won’t you.
___________________________________________________________
And that’s not all. My publisher is offering a special deal on the Kindle edition of “The Perils of Heavy Thinking.” Between now and February 14th (the sly dog) you can order this fun filled tome for the ridiculously low price of only $.99. That’s right. Better than a Big Mac, more satisfying than sex, and won’t rot your teeth. Just click on the title and place your order.
Directions? We don’t need no stinking directions.
A gift from my daughter that I’ve really been enjoying is a book entitled “The Insult Dictionary” by Julie Tibbot. Between the covers are hundreds of obscure, indelicate terms and phrases from ancient days up through modern pop culture. Armed with this new vernacular, I’ll be able to titillate friends and enemies alike.
Here are a couple of examples; “My great aunt is such a thornback, I’ll bet she’s never tipped the velvet.” (thornback ~a spinster; tip the velvet ~ kiss with tongues). “He tottered home late, covered in tears of the tankard, then shot the cat.” (tears of the tankard ~ splashes of beer on a man’s clothing; to shoot the cat ~ to vomit due to excessive alcohol intake).
And here’s a phrase Doug is sure to enjoy; Vice Admiral of the Narrow Seas ~ a drunken man who urinates under the table on his companions shoes.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our Leader, who dares us to write with cogitation is Merriam Webster Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
“Honey, I think we’re lost.”
“Lost? That’s ridiculous. I’ve never been lost in my life.”
“What about that time we were going from Joplin to Tulsa and wound up in Pensacola?”
“We weren’t lost. The map was folded the wrong way. And that shortcut took us further off course than I expected, but we were never lost.”
“Well, remember our trip to Sea World? I dozed off outside Barstow and when I woke up we were at the Great Salt Flats.”
“Yeah, I knew I should’ve taken that left turn at Albuquerque.”
“Where are we now?”
“Hell if I know.”
Gone, But Not Forgotten
Is it just me, or does Christmas tend sneak up on you too? Seems like only yesterday it was 4th of July. Then we celebrated Labor Day, got all dressed up for Halloween before letting my belt out a few notches at Thanksgiving. All the while, Christmas was just a distant day on the calendar, far in the future, like a planet in another solar system.
It’s the only holiday I know of that takes forever to get here, and then is over in a heartbeat. Twenty-four hours from now, most of us will be in an anticlimactic mode wondering how Christmas shifted into overdrive and left us behind faster than a jolly fat man propelled by eight supersonic reindeer. Maybe they should change the name of that song to “The Twelve Seconds of Christmas.”
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, our Commander in the war against boring blogs is Judith “The Hammer” Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
HONNAH LEE – Puff the Magic Dragon lost his courageous battle with lung cancer yesterday. His passing came as a shock to long-time fans who believed the myth; a dragon lives forever.
According to sources close to the family, Puff’s health had been in decline for a numbers of years.
“He rarely went out to frolic in the autumn mist anymore,” said a family spokesperson. “The cool, damp air was just too hard on his lungs.”
“Puff will be remembered as an advocate for peace,” said former President Bill Clinton. “Puff and I hung out in the 60’s. We did some draggin’, but neither of us inhaled.”
Once Bitten, Twice Busted
This morning I watched a really cute video of children explaining the events that happened in Bethlehem over two thousand years ago. When questioned about the animals in the stable they listed cows, sheep, goats, donkeys, horses, oxen, and the strong smell of manure. Not a single child mentioned chickens. Nor do I see poultry represented in standard nativity sets at Walmart.
This serious omission on the part of historians makes me cry, “Fowl.” I don’t know if Luke intentionally left chickens out of the birth of Christ story, or if it was simply an oversight on his part. In either case, it’s a sure bet he will never be elected to the Poultry Federation Hall of Fame.
If you’re new to Friday Flash Fiction, the Mother Hen who sits at a computer and pecks out our weekly photo prompt is Chanticleer Bantam Wisoff-Fields. If you’d like to participate in this exercise in madness, head over to her blog for step-by-step instructions. To view the FFF Hollywood Squares Authors Block click here.
“What is that, Professor Niggard?”
“The most dangerous insect on the face of the earth.”
“Really? Is it poisonous? Can it kill humans?”
“The bite is usually not fatal. But once bitten, the victim tends to suffer through long periods of financial instability, accumulate huge debt, and resort to compulsive behaviors beyond their control.”
“That sounds awful. Is the bite painful?”
“No. In fact most victims don’t even realize they been bitten until about a month later.”
“Can it happen to anyone?”
“Yes, but most victims are women.”
“And what do they call this insect?”
“Spendicus monēta. The shopping bug.”
Born in a Barn
For those of you tuning in expecting to read a FFF post, I’m sitting out this week.
Rather than bore you with a hundred rambling excuses, I’ve prepared a little eye-candy for your viewing enjoyment. Here’s a copy of the Christmas card Connie and I are sending this year.
Feel free to leave a comment. I should be back in the saddle next week.
Purchase ‘One Idiot Short of a Village’
Purchase ‘The Perils of Heavy Thinking’
What's So Funny? 