Like you, I was shaken by yesterday’s events. The senseless violence left me reeling. Indeed, I couldn’t help but feel despair. The fragile peace between humans and the alien race of fire-breathing lizards evaporated like tears on hot pavement.
Friends, those tears were mine. I cried, not just for the four million people who were killed in that awesome moment of combustible rage, but also for our role in creating this violence.
As scholars, it is our sacred duty to explore, to search for truth, and, when we find it, to share this truth with the world. I fear we…
Guess what? As it turns out stealing the Declaration of Independence is easier than respected scholar Benjamin Gates made it out to be. You don’t need a Ph.D. in American history, a nerdy sidekick with tech skills, or even a real plan. The riot and subsequent takeover of the Capitol building showed me that stealing one of the founding documents would be relatively easy. Here’s what you’ll need.
If I were a baseball announcer I would say “well, there goes that no-hitter he was working on” after the leadoff batter got a hit.
To my neighbor who cut down all his trees, I’d say “wow, really feels like a guy can breathe now that all the trees are gone.”
To the first person I have a face-to-face conversation with after the pandemic ends, to that person I want to say “you’re muted.”
I want to get a dog and name it grandma. Maybe the dog escapes from the backyard one day. I’d say to my neighbors, “Hey, we’re…
“I don’t have an Ed.D. but I do have ED.”
“Drat, my scone is dry and my monocle needs cleaning.”
“You there, young persons, kindly remove thine selves from atop my pelouse.”
“Girls have cooties.”
“Boys rule, girls drool!”
“Yes, yes, that’s all very well and good sweetheart, but let me tell you about my honorary doctorate from Adelphi University.”
“I’m not sexist, women are just oversensitive.”
“You can be anything in life — if you’re a man.”
“The real fault lies with the man who taught women how to read.”
“Founding member of The Patriarchy.”
“There’s no such…
SEATTLE — Police say a snowman is responsible for breaking into local businesses, setting car fires, and threatening to stab passersby with a carrot. The mayhem started yesterday afternoon outside the Goodwill on Capitol Hill.
Karen Foray and a group of her friends were shopping at the Goodwill when they came across an old top hat. The 17-year-old and her friends purchased the garment. “I recently bought this emergency snowman kit that came with a corncob pipe, button, and three pieces of coal,” she said. “Best $25 I’ve ever spent.”
Foray and her two friends decided to build a snowman…
Donald Trump stares into the bathroom mirror. He sees before him a magnificent specimen, a very stable genius who has Made America Great Again. Alas, his hero’s journey, his beautiful quest, has been thwarted by a massive conspiracy lead by angry Democrats, CNN, rigged voting machines, and Anthony Faucci. Trump’s gaze transcends time and space. In the mirror, he sees a little boy. The boy is Trump. He is naked, save a pair of tighty whities and a too-long red tie. Boy Trump is talking to his mother about how, when he’s older, he’s going to build poorly run luxury…
How’d you like to spend 12 days in the ICU?
I don’t want milk and cookies. I want you to wear a mask.
Rudolph couldn’t guide my sleigh tonight. He died from complications due to COVID-19.
You do remember that I see you when you’re sleeping, right?
I make lists. Do you know who also makes lists? Hitmen.
Do you like the red and white striping I put on this ventilator tube?
I left a turd in your stocking. I figured I’d give you one of my shits since you don’t seem to have any to spare. …
I really can’t stay? (No. You lost)
I don’t wanna go away (That’s for a jury to decide)
These four years have been (The longest of my life)
The greatest in history (Why anyone voted for you is a mystery)
Melania is going to leave me (That’s because you’re pervy)
My father exploited the poor (Let me walk you to the door)
I’m really not in a hurry (Ooh, look at the snow flurries)
Maybe just a few days more (Seriously there’s the door)
My lawyers think (The BS is bad out there)
Mail-in voting stinks. …
On the first day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
A COVID-19 vaccine.
On the second day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Two you’re muted.
On the third day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Three conspiracy theories.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my true love sent to me,
Four Trumpless years.
On the fifth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Five sweaty Giulanis.
On the sixth day of Christmas my true love sent to me,
Six feet of distance.
On the seventh day of Christmas my true love…
Andrew Bird wound the red fabric around itself, threaded it through the loop, and pulled. He synched the tie, brought the crisp knot tight against his collar. Andrew folded down the flaps, creased the shirt with his hands before tucking them into his pants. He slid the belt clasp into place, felt the metal fastener dig into his navel. He’d gained a few pounds.
Dressed, Andrew walked to the dining room to eat with his family. His wife emerged from the kitchen carrying a pan full of scrambled eggs. Andrew’s son sat at the table, his face inches…
Dad. Husband. Writer. Dork.