Sunday, 23 April 2017
Helloooo Newman: The Reports of My Death Have Been Greatly Exaggera...: Helloooo, Helloooo Newman fans H. Newman just learned that some of you have experienced an interruption in our blogs via Facebook. We ...
H. Newman just learned that some of you have experienced an interruption in our blogs via Facebook.
We apologize to our valued customers. We have retained the United Airlines PR firm to handle this growing international crisis. So far, the message they want to put out is, "shut up, motherfuckers, or we'll drag you off the Internet", but I am assured that this will be tweaked a bit.
If this happens again, masks will drop from your ceiling and feed you laughing gas.
And the cause? Putin and Trump, working together, hacked poor Newman and prevented articles from making their world-wide-web debut. Why did they targeted us? Can you think of a reason?
Apparently they feel our coverage of their antics has been unfair – that we've been mocking them.
I guess people see what they want to see. So typical of murderous dictators and dictator-wannabe's.
Normal H. Newman service has returned so get laughing!
Friday, 21 April 2017
It's an amazing feature of our universe that God spelled backwards is dog and devil spelled backwards is lived.
Devil also has the word "evil" in it, which backwards spells "live".
Some day we may even figure out why all this is important.
The amazement doesn't end there. If you take the letters of my name, "Paul", and replace them with the letters g-e-n-i-u-s, it spells genius.
I know. Amazing.
Thursday, 20 April 2017
United Airlines forcibly ejected another passenger today.
This situation was a little different because the plane was at 30,000 feet.
Asked why they repeated the same mistake, given all the bad publicity, the CEO, Oscar (the wizard of) Munoz said, "Well, the situation was a little different since the plane was at 30,000 feet so, understandably, the staff thought it was okay."
Unfortunately, it turns out cop the who ejected the passenger experienced a flashback to his thug training and heave-hoed the passenger, thinking it was all a test of his ability to be inhumane.
The United stock price fell with the passenger.
I was at a kid's birthday last weekend and instead of a money cake, they had an E-transfer cake. Lucky kids would find an IOU in their piece of cake, give it to the bday mom, and receive an e-transfer of 25 cents into their bank account. If the kid didn't have an account (it was a four-year-old's bday), their mom received it for the kid's trust fund.
It was so sweet watching the kiddie's eyes light up as they bit into an IOU and knew their account, or trust fund, was going to be electronically credited 25 cents.
It's so important that traditions like this are maintained, while keeping up with advancing technology.
Wednesday, 19 April 2017
Tuesday, 18 April 2017
Kim Jong-un, in defiance of Trump's military thumps, conducted yet another nuclear test.
The test was designed to see how KJ's carefully structured hair would withstand a nuclear blast of one megaton. This produces a far greater wind and heat than you and I are exposed to, say, walking in downtown Chicago in July. Your normal conditioner and stabilizer would be useless in these conditions.
This rare satellite photo proves the test was a success, because KJ's hair still looks awesome and he is with a big smile.
Scientists are studying the possible technological leaps behind this remarkable advancement, and which hairdressers might be complicit.
Experts have concluded that with this new ability, KJ is more ready than ever to not only fight and win a nuclear war, but to enjoy it and look good afterwards.
Monday, 17 April 2017
I wonder if religious preachers who talk to God ever receive junk messages, like us normal people who get junk email and texts.
How do they know it's a genuine message from God? What if it's Lucifer pretending to be God, and he sends a message saying "Click Here" and you'll go to Heaven.
So you click there (in your head) and a virus is released in your brain that gathers and releases all your evil and dirty thoughts to the world on Wikileaks.
What if someone hacks my prayers? Say the guy down the street sends a prayer under my name, asking "Dear God, please make beer cheaper."
For sure, I want beer to be cheaper. But I have enough class to know not to ask God for that. Besides, He's still working on my prayer to be a rock star.
Hmmm. I'm gonna be more careful praying.
Are near-death experiences proof of an afterlife?
The giveaway word is "near". Near-death means you are very much alive but somewhere in the vicinity of death. Maybe you live in the same neighbourhood as death, perhaps just down the street. You might take the same bus to work as death, but you definitely don't get off at the same stop. Death orders the same latte as you, but it's not so nearly as sweet.
Okay, maybe you even knock on death's door to borrow some lemons, but there's no answer. By the way, if death gives you lemons, forget about lemonade. You rub that lemon on the tiniest paper cut.
The point is you are nearly dead, and mostly still alive.
To actually be dead, you've moved in with death. You have a cot in the basement with no windows, a leaky toilet and a very large and noisy furnace. The front door is locked and you can't order Chinese food so the doorbell rings and you open the door to escape. You eat dinner with death, and it's burnt meatloaf every day. You are not leaving.
A near-death experience is really a before-death experience, so whatever happens doesn't really count as afterlife.
Let me interview someone who's been dead for a year, and then maybe I'll believe in an afterlife.
Near-death experiences must be scary, but far scarier are near-life experiences. To live a near-life experience is to live life as if you were dead. No passion, excitement or challenges. You just haven't been buried yet.
I think I'd prefer near-death.
Thursday, 13 April 2017
|David Dao (pronounced Dow)|
United Airlines is teaching their customers to live according to the ancient Chinese wisdom of the Dao. It's called the Dao of Flying.
The Dao means "The Way", in particular, the way out of your airplane seat, off the plane, and to the hospital with a concussion and loose teeth.
The Dao philosophy has many valuable lessons on living life wisely and harmoniously.
One must free oneself from an attachment to desires and things.
A good example is your airline ticket. You paid $500-1,000 for it, showed up 3 hours before the flight, you were groped by a large sweaty man with blue gloves on, put in a Borg scanner, promised a tiny seat, and actually given a seat.
You must let go of all that. It's not important to a peaceful life, especially when an airline can use violence to separate you from the desire for your seat. The Dao instructs you to not let yourself be beaten up, you moron.
Let's pretend you are a doctor. You are attached to your patients. No, no. Let it go, doc. They will die sometime anyway.
(Time to breathe deeply and eat some tiny pretzels)
The Dao teaches us there is a limit to what rationality and reasoning can teach us. What a coincidence. This is also found in the United Airlines training manual.
You may want to refer to two ancient Chinese books of wisdom - The I Ching and the I Paid. The I Paid teaches you that paying for something means dick for actually getting it. You might actually be paying for urgent medical care instead.
(Feel the energy flow from a cop's fist to your face)
We leave you with an important Dao mantra – "those who know do not speak…they punch.
PS: For more United Dao wisdom, please refer to the card in front of you.
Wednesday, 12 April 2017
What's with "thinking on your feet"?
Why is that valued in our modern society? If I know my archeology, even Neanderthal Man could walk and think about stuff, like taking down the local Mastodon or going cave-to-cave selling his paintings.
Is it really that hard to do? I think on my feet all the time. Recently I was walking around San Francisco at night and thought about the guy behind me with the "busted knuckles" tattoos on his eyeballs wanting my wallet.
Using my brain, I was able to regulate my feet and change walking into a swift run to the police station.
It was easy. Explaining to the police why I urinated in my jeans wasn't as easy.
The only time thinking on your feet becomes an achievement is while you're wearing high heels, but I haven't done that in a long time.
Your feet are the furthest body part from your brain, so I don't think they have anything to do with thinking.
I prefer thinking on my ass, which is closer to my brain, and might even contain my brain. Or even better, on my back. Lying on an individually-pocketed-and-coiled mattress. Followed by a nap.
Thinking on your head makes the most sense to me. We think with our head, so why not stand on it?
I've never tried standing on my head and working out some complex problem, but I'm sure going to.
If it works well, I hope this erases the nonsense phrase "thinking on your feet".
Tuesday, 11 April 2017
This is United Airlines CEO Oscar Munoz, aka the Seat Nazi, aka Say Hello To My Little Seat Policemen, aka Your Airline Ticket is Shit to Me and finally, Oscar the Grouch.
Oscar looks grouchy because he was just forcibly removed from his La-Z-Boy seat by his wife and children, even though he booked his seat two months ago to relax and watch the chainsaw shower scene from Scarface. "The guy in the shower deserved it", says Oscar.
Unfortunately, the La-Z-Boy was overbooked, with Oscar's wife offering it to her lover for the night, CEO of Air Canada, who is a much nicer guy and has great health care.
It's not like Oscar's family didn't try to negotiate. They offered him an intensive week-long seminar in Chechnya viewing all the Saw movies in the most comfortable chair that country has to offer.
Oscar is left to wonder if he will be forcibly removed from his big boy CEO chair.
A United Airlines passenger was badly hurt from what looks like rocky turbulence on a flight yesterday.
What makes this turbulence unique was that the plane was stationary. In civilian lingo, that means on the ground and not flying. United declared this to be the first incident of non-motion turbulence, except for the passenger that was tossed around.
In the United flight manual, it's called We're-Still-On-The-Ground-And-Want-To-Get-Going-You-Fucking-Customers Turbulence. It usually affects only those customers who insist on getting the seat they paid for, and who seem to have difficulty cooperating with staff.
"It's a very targeted turbulence", said United. "That's why, in an emergency like being refused a seat that you deserve, you should listen carefully to all crew instructions." Good advice, indeed!
Asked how it is possibly that a passenger can be tossed about while the plane is motionless, United answered, "Don't worry. After we beat you up, the oxygen mask should drop from the ceiling."
Helloooo Newman interviewed the passenger:
Bloodied passenger: I was really shocked when they told me this was a rare form of turbulence. Nothing special ever happens to me. I hadn't even picked my movie yet. At first I thought the flight attendant had spilled a ton of peanut bags on me. Or maybe sauce from my knuckle sandwich had spilled on me. I'm just glad those nice gentlemen dragged me to safety.
The United crew were honoured by its CEO for staying calm during an emergency customer beating.
Sunday, 9 April 2017
Obesity, the act of being overfed, is no longer the number one societal scourge.
In the Trumpited States of Amarica, a new and dangerous phenomenon has taken hold.
More and more people are…overread.
Being overread means that you have been reading way too much stuff. Junky stuff like novels, articles, political analysis, science, history etc – information that can help you live a more useful life, or discover something real about the world.
Similar to shoving cinnabon after cinnabon down your piehole leading to obesity, pouring information down your brainhole leads to Intellectsity. You are grossly overknowledgable.
With this disease, and it is a disease, your head expands and becomes so heavy, you drag it across the ground.
Your hat size becomes XXXXXX large. You look gross in glasses. People will stare at you on the beach as you wantonly stuff your brain with more knowledge. On an airplane, your head oozes over into your neighbours seat.
You have to buy a new house because you are just too smart for the rooms.
In its worst form, this disease leads to infobetes, and your body can no longer process factual knowledge properly. You go into shock every time someone discusses a serious issue, and you need to listen to talk radio to normalize your IQ level.
If you are overread, please stop. It's killing you.
Stop reading this blog!
Friday, 7 April 2017
Thursday, 6 April 2017
As a kid, I was told my brain was a sponge. "Sure, math is hard, but your sponge will soak it up."
Except living sponges have no brain whatsoever. Not a neuron in sight.
As I got older, my brain somehow became a noodle. "I guess we weren't using our noodle today, eh Mr. Hardie?", remarked my teacher.
Well, no. It's been boiling in water for 7 minutes.
At work I was told to put my thinking cap on. Is this cap made of wool? I keep scratching my head.
Now my brain is a piece of plastic. The plastic brain can be changed. Doesn't plastic melt near high heat? I think my plastic is recycled.
Why the cutesy names for the most important organ in the universe? It reminds me of the names my mom gave the vegetables she was trying to get me to swallow.
"Open the tunnel, the broccoli train is coming." Oops, derailment on my face.
Most of the time I don't believe my brain even exists. You can't tell from my behaviour. But, if I had to give it a name, I would go with:
Nerf Ball: When it's under pressure, it gets very small and stressed out. When it relaxes, it expands greatly. It's a fun toy and not much else.
Tootsie Pop: The more I lick it (use it), the smaller it gets, until all that's left is a gross misshapen brown sticky blob.
Humans examining the brain is really the brain examining the brain, since we are our brains. If you don't believe this, then why do small changes in the brain lead to huge changes in what it means to be human – personality, memory, perception, character, moral judgement etc.
The brain is not an unbiased observer. It thinks the world of itself. "The human brain is a wonderful organ", said Robert Frost, or rather, his brain said it. Self-flattery gets the brain everywhere.
I think people like to disassociate "themselves" (we sometimes call it the soul), from their "brain" for two reasons:
– It removes us from responsibility. My brain ate the entire bag of Skittles, not me.
– Humans, as self-important as we are, can't accept that our entire essence comes down to a lump of flesh.
There's a test for this. Hit yourself hard on the head over and over again with a hammer. Study the results.
Wednesday, 5 April 2017
Tuesday, 4 April 2017
I've always been insanely jealous of people who excel at small talk. The times I've tried it, I've put even very strong coffee to sleep.
And I've never been smart or mature enough to handle "large talk". That's heady talk – intellectual, cerebral, informed, serious.
Large talk includes language like, "Do you think Bell's Theorem of indeterminate quantum states supports a holographic view of the universe?" I hope to God the person gets distracted because I have no idea what any of that means. I memorized it.
So I'm developing a new kind of talk – Medium Talk.
Medium talk is the perfect blend of small and large talk. Like a nicely blended scotch, or producing the perfectly balanced child with a blend of tough genes (Betty White) and the more delicate variety (Vin Diesel).
Medium talk is just right for every occasion: weddings or funerals; birthdays or autopsies; every kind of party you will ever attend. Medium talk sits on the tip of your tongue, ready to impress at any time.
Small talk scene: On vacation, in an elevator with one other person
You: "Stubbed my baby toe on the bed. Now it looks like one of those gross black licorices you get in your halloween bag."
This talk is too small. You're talking about yourself, and no one cares about your toe.
Medium talk scene: On vacation, in an elevator with one other person
You: "Do you ever get travellers' diarrhea?"
Much better. You're showing curiosity about the other person, it's topical for vacations, and it can really impact a person's day.
See what I mean? Medium talk is perfect. That's because a medium life is perfect.
How do you like you steak? Medium-rare. What sized shirt do you wear? Medium. How are you built? Medium build.
Make medium talk your talk.
Saturday, 1 April 2017
I've never been a hugely competitive guy, although I can hold my own in a cutthroat game of Jenga or Twister.
Twister, by the way, is the human version of Jenga but in reverse. You add human beings together until he whole thing collapses.
Another term for adding people together until everything collapses? Civilization.
Competitive napping is where I really excel. My true talents shine, but not bright enough to wake me up. Or so I've been told. I'm always asleep while I'm napping competitively so I'm never really sure. I take the word of my napping coach.
I have a secret edge in napping, you see, and today I'm prepared to reveal it.
While I am napping, I dream. I dream that I am napping. So I'm double napping. Or Sleeming – sleeping and dreaming that I'm sleeping.
It's very difficult to wake me up in this state. In fact, you would have to wake me up in my dream before my actual real body would wake up. Only I can do that.
At one napping contest a judge tried to wake me and, unbeknownst to me, I ripped his cheek muscles right off his face. The judge dropped all charges because I was double asleep and could not form any intent.
I wake myself up by setting an alarm in my dream nap. I'm a little groggy at first, but soon I'm chipper and I can get around to waking my actual self up.
Sometimes the alarm in my dream nap fails to go off and I miss important appointments.
If you want to challenge me to a nap, I'll take you on any day – anywhere.
Tuesday, 28 March 2017
|Pictures of lil ol me?|
Dammit! Why don't I have nude selfies hidden online somewhere?
Every day I read how celebrity after celebrity has their nude photos hacked and all the wonderful attention they get for it. Then I think to myself, boy, I could use some of that attention. What a great way to launch a serious writing career.
Okay, I know I don't have a body anywhere resembling Scarlett Johansson, the latest victim of birthday suit hacking. The headline for my hacked photos: Zoo photos hacked, orangutan cage.
You're probably surprised that I don't already have a stash of nude selfies ripe for the exposure. Right now all I have are selfie sketches, all in various poses akin to V. Putin: riding Newman bareback (I'm shirtless), wrestling Newman in the shower with a steak knife etc. Do you know how hard it is to sketch yourself wrestling a 35-pound Aussie-Shepherd mix? And everything's wet.
By the way, I have an excellent hypnotist if you need the previous image erased from your memory.
I suppose the ultimate hacking dream is V. Putin himself snatching my photos and slowly releasing them to destroy my writing career, but building it up instead. Me, with my desperate ego, would proclaim, "Yes, that's me. It's real news."
The best I can hope for is to be hacked by someone handy with Photoshop so they can apply some male gender filters: convex chest filter, Kardashain butt filter.
Can Scarlett really be that surprised that her nudies were pilfered and exposed? Did she think the next hacking victims would be Michael Caine (84 years old), Morgan Freeman (79 years old) or Danny DeVito (72 years old)? Silly girl.
I wonder which celebrity will be the first to not keep their birthday suit photos on some device for weasels to hack.
Sunday, 26 March 2017
I read that all of our devices are spying on us with tiny cameras and bluetooth sensors. They said I should put a piece of tape over my computer camera.
Coincidentally, yesterday I discovered a camera in one of my fillings. Well, I've taken care of that. I keep a piece of duct tape over my mouth.
Saturday, 25 March 2017
|The average Helloooo Newman fan.|
Dear Helloooo Newman readers…are you finding the blogs too funny?
Lately I've had crowds of 1 or 2 people rush me, complaining that they are laughing too hard at the articles.
They suffered from "too funny", also known as being "over-funnied" and "over-entertained". Just like being "over-tired", and you can't sleep, when you are "over-entertained" you can't laugh anymore, and you actually forget what you are laughing at.
There are real dangers in "too funny".
As my brain lays awake every night delicately constructing brilliant articles (and I sleep), I've always been careful not to make things "too funny".
Do I really want to put a warning on every blog that says, "Caution: severe laughter may exacerbate certain medical conditions"? I really don't want to worsen your IBS. The word "exacerbate" makes me squirm.
Or, "Warning: brilliance and funny are closer than they appear".
All very awkward. That's why I tone down the funny. Way below 11. It's for your safety.
Like Nigel in Spinal Tap, who asked us not to look at his favourite guitar, I have locked away my best material, only to be revealed upon my death by Geraldo Rivera. Please, don't feel badly if you wish me to die soon so this "11, 12 and 13…1000" material can be revealed. All in good time.
I also stay away from "too funny" because, frankly, I don't want to steal success away from other struggling comedians, like Louis C.K., Amy Schumer and Jim Gaffigan. Struggling in the sense that they're struggling with fame and shitloads of money. I shudder at those kinds of problems.
So, the next time you visit Helloooo Newman, don't worry. I am keeping the funny down for your well being.