Monday, 22 May 2017
Does water need to drink 8 glasses of water a day? What if it runs out of water? It can't drink itself, can it?
Why don't we have powered water?
It makes sense. You're lost in the dessert and you really need a drink, you pull out your powered water and just mix it with…
I see the problem.
Saturday, 20 May 2017
Thursday, 18 May 2017
Wednesday, 17 May 2017
Tuesday, 16 May 2017
I might join a think tank.
I'm thinking about it, that is. Not one actually joins a think tank. One only thinks about it.
If you actually join a think tank, you have surpassed thinking and are now "doing" something.
That would be a "do tank", and the last kind of tank I want to join is a tank that requires me to do things.
Does all the thinking have to be done in a tank? I'm not sure. Will everyone fit? Will there be air conditioning and snacks?
What kind of tank is it? A military tank would be cool. A gasoline tank not so much.
The idea of a think mattress sounds more enticing to me. All my best thinking is done on a mattress.
My wife is joining an overthink tank, because she overthinks everything. The hours are very long.
"Hey Bill, you know that thing we were thinking about yesterday? I went and did it."
"You actually did it? Get out of here. You're fired."
Monday, 15 May 2017
Donald Trump released highly classified information to the Russian government that he is a complete idiot.
He also revealed the secret sources and methods used to discover this information, which included speaking to Mr. Trump, asking him questions and listening to his answers.
The ramifications are reverberating.
Friday, 12 May 2017
Trump and Russian agent (I meant Ambassador) Kislyak, chumming before sitting down to a nice cup of Ovaltine in the Oval office.
Code Name: Kislyak
Real Name: Kiss My Ass You Lackey
Agent Kiss My Ass smuggled listening devices in his goiter. Impossible to detect, hidden beneath successively smaller and smaller goiters, Russian doll style.
Who's the happy one in this photo?
Thursday, 11 May 2017
This guy is laughing at US?
The big Us as in U.S.?
I don't think sooooooo.
His first mistake in life was asking his plastic surgeon to move his eyes closer together.
Did they mix up metric and imperial? Something went very wrong.
His brain: "Jesus man, I can't see a thing. What did you do out there?"
His second mistake is messing with Donald Trump.
Okay, that wasn't really a mistake. It was brilliant, actually.
Yet again, no one seems to be able to bring shame to the most shameful people on earth.
|Let me out of this damn cave|
Do we really need a different word for a female comedian.
Is a female doctor a doctorienne? Painterienne?
Comedy begins, millions of years ago, in a club called Prehysterical:
"C'est what? A woman wants to perform? What do we call her? She's not a comedian. She's a…a WOMAN."
"How did she get out of the cave?"
"I forgot to move the boulder in front of the opening. Great, now we have to think of a new word. It took me 6 months to come up with penis."
"What about Nuisance?"
"Kinda mean, but I like it."
Somehow they settled on comedienne. And history taught us that women can't be as funny as men.
Women like Carol Burnett, Lucille Ball, Whoopi Goldberg, Amy Poehler, Tina Fey, Ellen Degeneres, Gilda Radner, Betty White, Kate McKinnon, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Sarah Silverman, Jane Curtin, Maya Rudolph, Samantha Bee, Lily Tomlin, Kristen Wiig, Melissa McCarthy (genius), Joan Rivers, Phyllis Diller, Madeline Kahn, Jane Lynch, Mary Tyler Moore, Cloris Leachman, Amy Schumer, Tracey Ullman, Catherine O'Hara, Vicki Lawrence, Bernadette Peters…
This is not in order of when men let them out of the cave to perform.
Not a funny comedian among them.
Shit. I meant comedienne.
I've been practicing my comedic timing. I can now tell a joke at 200 beats per minute. My goal is to tell a joke so fast, the human ear can't perceive it. When you come to my really big shoe, you will get more jokes per hour than any other comedian.
Helloooo Newman: Sorry, I Can't Hear Your Question: President Trump's new White House press secretary
Wednesday, 10 May 2017
I'm super excited about men's book club next week.
Our book is I Ain't Got Time To Bleed, by Jesse Ventura. Being a writer, I insist on grammatically correcting it to Do I Have Time To Bleed? No, and Arnie is a Pussy.
Imagine being bold enough to write about your manopause. Ironically, or maybe not, this is the time of Jesse's finest acting, before he was abducted by aliens and his brain replaced with an expired Brita filter.
Last week we critiqued the dictionary, which I felt was overwritten and in huge need of a quality editor. And that was only reading to the letter F. It's not just too wordy. It's too lettery.
In the summer we are studying Goop Clean Beauty by the one and only Gwyneth Paltrow. It's at my house and I'm just so not sure what kind of scented candles I'll choose.
My favourite so far has been The Unibomber Manifesto. Not an easy read, but worth the trouble, plus I was puke drunk when I read it.
Tuesday, 9 May 2017
Hmmmm. I wonder what lie I will sell today.
I used to be a Warden at an all-lesbian prison with women who had pre-existing conditions, such as being lesbian.
I was an underwear model for a while.
I cut my suit sleeves short so they won't get dirty when I shove my hand up the President's rectum, searching for the truth. Okay, that one's true.
You. In the rear. With a question?
Every day I'm grateful for not being in Cirque de Soleil. If I was, I wouldn't be able to employ one of my favourite phrases: Bend over backwards.
I use it on my wife all the time. "I bend over backwards cutting the lawn for this family." "I bend over backwards putting my own clothes away." "I bend over backwards eating the dinner you cook every day."
Drives her crazy, because there's no good comeback for my logic. I DO bend over backwards, and fuck — it hurts.
Now, if I were in Cirque de Soleil, bending over backwards would be a normal day for me. It wouldn't hurt. I would enjoy it. Please, give me a chore that requires me to bend over backwards. And swing on a rope.
Where would that leave me when I want to stump my wife with a solid argument? With my butt cheek in my mouth cheek, instead of my tongue.
Incidentally, I bend over backwards writing this blog.
Monday, 8 May 2017
Sunday, 7 May 2017
Friday, 5 May 2017
Thursday, 4 May 2017
The best job in the world is dog walker. That's because your client, the dog, can't complain.
Owner: Hey Rover, how was your walk today with the pack?
Rover: Oh, I forgot to tell you. We didn't go to the park.
Owner: You didn't? What did you do?
Rover: We went to the dude's basement apartment.
Owner: What! Why?
Rover: Well, he was tired so we hung out on the guy's bed while he jacked-off to some show called Pretty Little Liars and ate cheesies.
Owner: That's disgusting. We're never going back to him again.
Rover: Actually it wasn't too bad. He has a water bed so Gus, Sadie and I bounced around like we were on the ocean. Not a bad show, either.
Owner: That's not what I pay him for.
Rover: Well, that's a good point. Whatever you think is best.
Never gonna happen.
I stayed at the Jane Eyre bnb last month. A novel concept, but way too much reading.
I moved to the more adventurous Nike Air bnb. Very comfortable, but with all that running around, I was exhausted.
Now I can stay on my own bnb. A relative left me his bnb, which I call Heir bnb.
Wednesday, 3 May 2017
Tuesday, 2 May 2017
Why don't they have cry tracks in tv shows?
They have laugh tracks. Why not cry tracks?
The laugh track really helped me enjoy shows like MASH properly. There's nothing as embarrassing as laughing out of sync. Or emitting the wrong kind of laugh.
That was a funny scene. Hmmm, what kind of laugh is appropriate? A chuckle, chortle, guffaw, giggle, a snigger or a snicker, a howl, the infamous LOL, ROFL, or maybe just a polite tee-hee?
Isn't laughing complicated?
They should put crying tracks in movies, too. That way, I know when and how hard to cry in a movie like The Notebook. That movie should have two crying tracks. One for the woman, who is upset about what's happening, and one for the man, who's upset about being made to sit through it.
Other good tracks include:
more butter on my popcorn track
Sunday, 30 April 2017
Friday night I was discussing with a cohort those restaurants where you eat in the dark. It's called blind dining. (see O.Noir in Toronto)
That got me thinking. You know what happens when I think, don't you?
I am inventing bright dining, where the lights are so bright that you also can't see anything. Other than light.
This gives the public a clear choice between the dark side and the light side.
I included a picture of the restaurant above. Trust me, the food looks great.
Couple of kinks:
1. Each dinner costs $1,200, to pay for the electrical bill and make some profit
2. People must sign a waiver for possible retinal damage, cataracts etc.
Keep your eyes closed for the opening of the first bright dining experience.