Humor

Yidiot

By on Jul 10, 2017 in Humor | Comments Off

I decided to go on Thursday night to the Buddhist talk at my temple, the Congregation B’nai Tsimmes. I managed to get out of work early, always a Nirvana-inducing feat, then high-tailed it home, ran three, showered, nuked and ate a health-conscious chicken pot pie, and set forth on my Siddharthan quest. Minya stayed home with the quads. On the ten-minute ride to the temple, I fretted about whether I was wearing the right clothes; the flyer had said to wear “comfortable clothes and footwear,” but I wasn’t about to wear sweats to a place of worship. I wondered if I would know anybody...

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A Vegetarian Backslidden

By on Feb 12, 2017 in Fiction, Humor | Comments Off

On the seventh day God rested, so Sunday dinner was up to Lucifer. While chewing enthusiastically and explaining to his angels that, for much of the beginning of human history, his most confusing creation would believe their planet was not only flat but the center of the universe (to hearty chuckles all around) God ate in contentment. But, towards the end of the meal, the creator abruptly began to brood. Seeing his lord staring off, his hairy jaws full but no longer moving, Gabriel asked what was wrong. “Well,” God both swallowed and answered hesitantly. “It’s the food.” “Oh, I...

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Interior Monologue (Girl with Smart Phone)

By on Sep 25, 2016 in Humor, Poetry | Comments Off

Though it’s no mace, but cell phone in my hand, I’d like to favor you. But I’ve a slew of messages whose import countermand desires of my awestruck retinue who pass me with petitions on the street. Because of this, I claim the royal right to read my e-mail following a tweet to devotees while you keep me in sight. Indeed, not only are my hands not free, but texting makes it difficult to turn, acknowledging those holding doors for me. Thus, I can’t give the gratitude you yearn for who suppose a royal highness grants indulgence to her abject...

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Princess and the 21st Century Space-Age Mattress

By on Sep 25, 2016 in Fiction, Humor | Comments Off

Pete, my roommate, is a strikingly handsome guy; he’s tall, blonde, strong, jovial, and he’s equipped with what a girlfriend of mine once described as, “A face to die for.”  My girlfriend.  She said that about Pete, to me.  Thanks, honey. Pete’s got this problem, though.  Pete only dates crazy people.  I know what you’re thinking: “Women, am I right?”  No, you’re wrong.  I mean, wait, Pete dates women, yes, but not in the “all women are crazy” sense.  The women Pete finds are straight-up...

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Barbarian Soiree

By on Sep 11, 2016 in Fiction, Humor | Comments Off

“Blessed are those servants whom the master finds awake when he comes.” – Luke: 12:37    I text my girlfriend: “Maybe the menus are carved in stone.” A sophisticate in the waiting area talks on his cell, and gapes at a meat slab on a rotating spit. A teenage boy with jeans tighter than a court jester’s leggings detaches from his phone and snorts as a meat-bearer—they call these guys “gauchos”—passes him. Here at the bar, the carvings in the crown molding have all the refinement of a shore of bludgeoned seals. And that wainscoting? With the decorative edges?...

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Dear Mr. Shakespeare

By on May 10, 2015 in Fiction, Humor | Comments Off

Dear Mr. Shakespeare: Sir, some are convinced that your wisdom and creative genius are unsurpassed; others believe someone else is writing those so-called masterpieces that bear your name. To point 2 above, I say “Sir Francis Bacon? Christopher Marlowe?” To point 1, I say “Baloney!” I have waded through your most recent  bloodbath, Macbeth, which you recently proffered for publication. Having recovered from several nightmares about drowning in an ocean of blood, I am ready to respond. Since I can’t address every weakness in this lurid “historical”...

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