Category: Humor

So the thing this last weekend on Facebook was for everyone to create “Avatars” to use in their, what, “rooms”? Dang this new fangled Facebook technology.

New fangled? I think Avatars peaked with Habitat on QuantumLink in the 1980s.

Now, I will spare you the speculation about how “avatars” on Facebook instead of actual, you know, profile pictures, further dehumanize and infantilize our online presences, but I realize that, again, that climbs the “Crackpot Mountain” which is the graph of how, if you get me started talking about how things might be crazy, it sounds like I’m nuts, but if you get to know me better, you know I’m just spitballing as I put my creative writer creativity to ill use. It’s kind of like the uncanny valley, but upside down. If you’re still reading this blog, gentle reader, you’re on the downhill side.

At any rate, I don’t use Facebook mobile applications, where I think that nonsense is hosted, and I don’t tend to follow Facebook trends/fads unless I make mock of them.

Which I did with this one.

I raided our winter closet for a brown jacket, a rather fancy scarf belonging to my beautiful wife, and a cap that fits underneath your bike helmet (well, my wife’s bike helmet) as well as my gear bag for my swimming goggles, and….

I shared my aviator.

It took me about five minutes before dinner; my wife was amused when she saw it, and said I certainly spent some time on it.

Well, not really, but I was inspired.

It didn’t get a lot of like-loving on Facebook, but I could go into my theory again about how Facebook’s algorithms probably hide me from my friends’ feeds (or my friends have done so, gentle reader, but how could I think that low of my friends’ sense of humor?), but you’re on the downhill slope of the Crackpot Mountain, and I’d hate to place another in your path.

Remember, if you hit any open-the-state protesters with your car (I am SOOOO essential, Karen! I NEED TO DRIVE!) this week, you should immediately sanitize the bumper and fender to ensure they don’t give you COVID-20.

COVID-19? Man, that’s so yesterday. The hipster fear is now COVID-20.

If the protester hits the windshield, windshield washing fluid is not enough!

And the media will cheer you for running down the protestors, unlike the Profa protesters a couple years ago.

Perhaps I need a category for sick or gallows humor since that runs so deep within me. Also note: THIS IS NOT REAL ADVICE. I realize if you’re old enough to need reading glasses to read this fine print, you’re not tempted, but kids these days. GAWD!

Logically speaking, none of these squares have buses; as a matter of fact, the image only contains a single bus spread over four squares.

I know, I am reading too much into it, but I sometimes still get a little bit anxious when trying out captchas. Sometimes the images are blurry, or the text is ambiguous as to what I’m really looking for.

Apparently, the Democrats in Congress have got Trump this time!

Meme demeanors. Get it?

I try so very hard.

I would probably take my poor, long-suffering beautiful wife to see it.

I have taken her to see far worse films based on Saturday Night Live skits.

But I would not take up another $10 or $15 a month service charge to stream it. I might have mentioned that I don’t get to see many movies these days, and I think we’re about two seasons backed up on the things we record on our DVR, so I don’t need to spend extra watching things I probably won’t enjoy and that will probably lecture me anyway.

Keep your clothes on. Come on. You didn’t need me to tell you that.

The Bored Panda article is entitled 45 Times People Couldn’t Believe Their Luck In Thrift Stores, and, I don’t know about you, but number 6 looks like it wants me to start the reactor and free Mars.

Come on, you know I’m referring to Total Recall (the original real one.)

Come on, you know I’m kidding, right? That’s an allusion to the film Turk 182, one of those films from the middle 1980s when Kim Cattrall was all that and an upsized order of seasoned fries before the Sex and the City character made her seem a little skeevy.

New Uber Service Will Go On A Run For You:

A new Uber service called UberJog promises to let you call an expert runner to go on a run on your behalf.

Although, to be honest, I’d prefer a service that does the swimming portion of a triathlon for you. I’ve got one coming up in three weeks, and I’m ill prepared for it. As I have been for the last two Tiger Triathlons in Republic.

And while we’re on the subject, here’s a bit of satire I shared on Facebook:

I see via Mr. Hill that I was not alone in my macabre humor.

So I have been messing around with Git and Github since it’s the versioning software all the kids use, and I’ve found the pull and push nomenclature, not to mention the order of operations, a little strange to someone used to Visual SourceSafe or Subversion. So I downloaded a picture of the Pushmi-pullyu from the film Doctor Dolittle, the original one with Rex Harrison and not the Eddie Murphy remake (although I have seen neither–but I read the book in middle school).

I was going to make a gag about it being the cover of my new book about Git.

But. Or, more precisely, butt another opportunity for mirth presented itself.

For Christmas this year or the last, we gave a friend of ours a set of cat butt refrigerator magnets for Christmas because she has cats.

So this week, I’m helping take care of her cats while she’s out of town, and one of my boys spots the magnets and puts them together in some sort of eldritch unholy alliance you would find in Lovecraft:

I said to my mother-in-law, “A pussy-pullyu.”

She didn’t get it.

So I snapped a picture of the monstrosities and said, “I’ll put it on my blog. Someone will get it.”

You, gentle reader, now have the context of the pun and why it came so easily to me.

Get it?

Eh, who cares. I’m just doing the for the mad search hits for whatever kind of sexual trick the pun means it the seedy seamy underbelly of humanity that is our Internet.

These grapes are Molina Quality.

To those of you who are not from St. Louis and do not follow baseball, Yadier Molina has played catcher for the Cardinals for sixteen years and is considered to be one of the best all time.

I explain this to you because most of my readers are not from St. Louis.

It looks like the Internet is having a problem again and many images on Web sites and Facebook are not loading, so I’m just going to share this image on Facebook a bunch:

What else would expect from the designer of the original broken image t-shirt?

I still have a Cafe Press store which sells just enough Project Manager Wall Clocks to keep me from having to pay to have a Cafe Press shop.

As we live in the country, you might not be surprised when the random bull shows up at Nogglestead.

But sometimes, I have to explain.

My children have been home this summer instead of going to various camps to occupy them whilst their parents work (working from home can be especially challenging during the summer time). They’ve had a lot of time playing video games, and apparently all the video games these days have integrated audio with them, so my youngest has spent a lot of time saying loudly, “Do you have a mike?”

When they had a friend over one Sunday afternoon, they all spent time playing individual games on their individual devices instead of playing with their friend. So I printed out a picture of Michael Jordan and waited until my youngest was playing on a gaming system that did not have a microphone.

“Do you have a Mike?” I asked him.

“No,” he said. At eleven, he knows the proper inflection for how can you even ask that?

“Here,” I handed him the color picture.

It’s floated around our lower level since. Being it’s a color print out, nobody wants to dispose of it willy-nilly, without enough time elapsing and reflection.

You know I had children specifically so I could make Dad jokes, ainna?

I hereby call the pun to be made on January 1, 2021, “2020 is hindsight.”

Don’t try to take it away from me.