Archives For Humor

Susquana had suspected all along
that something in her marriage was dead wrong;
but now she had the undeniable proof,
and her red hot temper hit the roof.

She decided to take some action soon
to rid herself forever of that buffoon.
She wanted something powerful and quick,
and decided it would be arsenic.

She made a trip to the local pharmacy
where she knew her good friend, Ralph, would be.
“Ralph,” she said, “I want some arsenic,
and more than enough to make the varmint sick.”

“What did you say?” an agitated Ralph exclaimed.
“Do you want to put a sick animal out of its pain?”
“Well, I don’t want to shoot him in the head,
but I intend to see my husband dead.”

You can’t do that! It’s murder!!” she heard Ralph say,
“and you cannot get by with it. No way!
They’d trace that arsenic right back here to me,
but you, my friend, would get the death penalty.”

“Well, I don’t care,” said Susquana with misgivings,
“my life right now ain’t hardly worth the living.”
Having said that, she reached in her pocketbook,
pulled out her cell phone, and said, “Here, take a look.”

Ralph took a peek, and got the shock of his life –
Susquana’s husband was making mad love with his wife.
He said when he settled down from his conniption,
“Why didn’t you tell me you had a prescription?”
© 2016, cbs

Some call obesity a national disease.
Well, I have a theory, if you please,
that relates to the old cliché that quips,
a moment on the lips– forever on the hips.
If you wish to avoid obesity’s hardships,
be moderate with things that end in -ips.

You first thought will be potato chips,
or corn chips, or perhaps apple pips.
Or could it have been loin tips
or excess little sips or nips?

There is no question of the fact that they
are part of the problem we have today:
but have you considered the fact that trips
to the oven or fridge could be one of those -ips?

Among the offenders are the cargo ships
that makes those transoceanic trips
and bring back foreign delicacies
that contribute so much to our national disease.

But the one group of -ips that all others eclipse
in adding fat to our national hips
and with which it is hardest to come to grips,
is the ever present silicone chip.

At first you might think a young sister or brother
with a sandwich in one hand, a mouse in the other,
intensely playing a video game
or texting on a cell-phone (they both work the same),
the bike and the bar-bells seriously neglected:
it does not take long before weight is affected.

The same with the adult addicted to Facebook
or LinkedIn or Twitter. They soon have the same look –
with a bulging belly and billowing behind –
a lot in their stomach, and little on their minds.

If you have a problem, then take the advice
of a guy who’s circled the track once or twice:
don’t be inactive, and tighten your grips
on those things whose spelling ends with an -ips.
© 2016, cbs

The Grand Ole Opry

January 18, 2016 — Leave a comment

It was November 28, 1925
when The Grand Ole Opry first came alive
on WSM radio of Nashville, Tennessee.
There was no hint of what it would one day be.

The WSM call letters served the function
of reminding of their slogan, “We sell millions,”
of the National Life … Insurance Company
who owned the station in it’s entirety.

WSM had hired broadcaster George D. Hay,
who introduced the “WSM Barn Dance” that day
from the fifth floor studios of WSM.
The “sober old judge’s” program soon outgrew them.

Several more and larger venues were outgrown
as “The Opry” became better and better known.
To keep the crowds from being quite as large,
“The Opry” instituted a twenty-five cent charge.

The Grand Ole Opry name was first invoked
when “Sober Old Judge” Hay spontaneously joked
after a previous announcer had said with sarcasm,
“There is no place in music for realism.”
Hay said, “We’ve been listening to music from grand opera.
From now on, we’ll present The Grand Ole Opry.”

For ninety years, “The Opry” has displayed
a constant flow of artists on parade
who say, “If you get to ‘The Opry,’ you’ve got it made.”
To name them all is an impossibility,
but Elvis and Dolly performed there joyfully.

“The Opry” continues this popularity
with myriads of musical venues to hear and see:
folk music, gospel, bluegrass, skits and comedy,
but the base format of the show is still country.
© 2016, cbs

Lindstrom’s Gifts

December 21, 2015 — Leave a comment

Lindstrom had problems that were mostly financial
so, when he gave gifts, they were never substantial.
But he never allowed there to be an occasion
when he failed to give Susquanna one.

His gifts were usually determined by a need
for their impoverished family to succeed –
such as a lamp, or six pairs of stockings,
a microwave, or some pot for cooking.

On the other hand, Susquanna, his wife,
wished for some things that would spice up her life –
something that was simply sentimental,
or possibly only ornamental.

She dreamed of a mink coat, a diamond ring,
a brand-new car – just anything
to prove that Lindstrom truly loved her
and was willing to sacrifice for her.

Lindstrom’s rich uncle, Joshua, succumbed
and left to his nephew a quite large sum
of money, so he could now finance
Susquanna’s idea of a gift for romance.

But Lindstrom was set in his practical way,
and for Susquanna’s next birthday
he gave her a cemetery lot in the shade,
and a beautiful casket that was ivory inlaid.

Susquanna held her peace, but started campaigning
by hinting, showing pictures and mentioning,
by dragging Lindstrom window shopping
that always featured a diamond ring.

Lindstrom thought it was all absurd
and finally decided to speak his word.
“Why is a diamond all that I hear
when you haven’t used the present I gave you last year?”
© 2015, cbs

Grandparents

October 17, 2015 — Leave a comment

Our nation celebrates Grandparents Day
the Sunday after Labor Day.
It passed six weeks ago, we fear,
without our mention. Let’s not wait a year
to celebrate and applaud those who
with so much love our families imbue.

Is there any wonder that many one-liners
are written to celebrate these “old-timers?”
Here are just a very few
slightly edited to rhyme for you.
Apparently, all these that are shown
are by the same author, whose name is “Unknown.”

“It’s such a great thing to be a mother’s mother,
that’s why the world calls her “Grandmother.’”
“Grandmas are just antique little girls”–
“with lots of frosting in their curls.”
“Grandmas might look quite old on the outside,
but they are amazingly young on the inside.”

An old Welch proverb says, “Perfect love
and the first grandchild arrive hand in glove.”
“Grandparents hold tiny hands for a few days,
but hold their hearts forever and always.”
“Grandparents are babysitters who really did
watch, not the television, but the kids.”

Grandparents remind me of a piece of string;
useful to have around for many things –
especially to hold on to the youth that lingers
when wrapped around grandchildrens’ little fingers.
© 2015, cbs

The Year Was Nineteen Forty-Five
and Chicago’s Cubs were quite alive
to be World Series baseball champs;
they thought they had it in their clamps.
Detroit was down two games to one
and their Cubs were coming home.

Billy Sianis, the Billy Goat Tavern owner,
bought two tickets thinking they would honor
one each for him and his pet goat, Murphy.
The goat had been his mascot and trophy
since 1934, when Murphy fell from a truck.
Sianis felt Murphy would bring the Cubs luck
since he wore a blanket where Sianis wrote
the words, “We got Detroit’s goat.”

Wrigley Field’s ushers had a different idea
and said, “You can’t bring that goat in here.”
Sianis appealed, but the Cubs owner
said, “Your goat stinks and he’s a goner.”

Sianis said, with his arms in the air,
“The Cubs ain’t gonna win no more.
They will never a World Series win
as long as Wrigley Field won’t let my goat in.”
The Cubs that night lost four to one,
and were down four to three when the series was done.
When the Cubs folded after his vow
Sianis sent a telegram, “Who stinks now?”

Seventy Cubs teams have come and gone
and Sianis’ curse seems to carry on.
They’ve not been league champions in any year,
nor once in a World Series appeared.
Before he died, Sianis tried
to remove the curse, but it still seems tied.

On October 8, the Cubs will appear
in a wild-card game. Could this be the year
when Sianis’ curse will finally be broken,
seventy years after it was spoken?
The Cubs must win this crucial game.
If they fail to win, is the curse to blame?
© 2015, cbs

Thinking as an Engineer

September 26, 2015 — Leave a comment

Engineers are as different as night is from day.
They see things in an entirely different way.
“The glass is half-full,” exudes the optimist.
“The glass is half empty,” decries the pessimist.
“The glass is too large,” the engineer insists.

Most people say, “Don’t fix it if it ain’t broke,”
but engineers thinking is different than other folks.
The engineer will say from a thoughtful heart,
“If it ain’t broke, it probably needs more parts.”

A priest, a doctor, an engineer one day
were on the links their game of golf to play.
The group ahead was extra, extra slow.
“What’s wrong with those guys?” the engineer wanted to know.

“I don’t know,” said the doctor, “but worse golf I’ve never seen.
Not one of those guys has even reached the green.”

“Here’s the green keeper,” the priest said, “let’s ask him.
Hey, George, those guys are so slow … What’s wrong with them?”

“Oh, those are the firemen,” said George, “who lost their sight
while saving our clubhouse from the fire that night.
We owe them a debt of gratitude so large,
I let them play whenever they want, without charge.”

“That’s awful,” said the priest in response to him.
“I’ll call my flock to special prayer for them.”

“I’ll call my friend, a super ophthalmologist,”
said the doc. “He’s a specialist in cases like this.”

“Since they can’t see, why wouldn’t it be right,”
asked the engineer, “for them to play their golf at night?”
© 2015, cbs

SPAM versus Spam

September 14, 2015 — Leave a comment

Though both words are pronounced exactly the same,
the spelling denotes each a different ballgame.
The first is a canned meat product from Hormel –
the other is Internet trash straight from … well.

SPAM is a mix of pork and ham, precooked
with added sodium nitrate to keep that pink look.
Spam is Internet stuff only you can measure,
for one man’s trash is often another man’s treasure.

How the meat product got its name is a mystery
that may be lost in the pages of history.
Wartime Britain called it “Specially Processed American Meat.”
Americans cynics said, “Something Posing As Meat.”

SPAM became popular in wartime Britain,
but not every member of the populace was smitten.
Every dish featured SPAM in a popular sketch by Monty
Python, and the title transferred to email by analogy.

The costs and barriers are low for mass emailing,
and it is so much faster than is “snailing”
that you cannot put blame on a company
for putting stuff out there for all who will to see.

Treat it like you’d treat a South Georgia gnat –
(purse your lips, and blow hard where it’s at).
Just click delete, and brush that stuff away.
No reason to let a little spam spoil your day.

As to the canned meat, just consider it
when fried, a perfect companion to a bowl of grits.
On second thought, a better answer yet –
Did you ever try a SPAM and cheese omelette?
© 2015, cbs

“The only constant thing in life is change,”
someone has said. Things get re-arranged.
Change’s pace may be rapid; sometimes slow,
but given time, you will hardly know
that thing so familiar in your days of yore.
It will appear quite different than before.

I plowed a mule on a rented farm as a youth,
but cannot find the farm now for, forsooth,
buildings and concrete completely fill the site,
with frenzied action there both day and night.
Mixed emotions come with my report.
That farm is now a part of Atlanta’s airport.

And things are heavier than they used to be.
Those buckets I used to handle easily
now require a great big grunt and strain,
and bring a pledge to not do that thing again.
And can you tell me who added length to the mile?
To walk the new one takes me more than a while.

Also, my money won’t stretch as far as before.
The price of things is ,oh,so very much more.
For instance, I spent one night in a luxury hotel,
the amenities of which were as sorry as (I won’t tell),
and when I gave the bellboy a two dollar tip,
it cost what I made in a full year of internship.

So if you’re getting tired of life’s little games,
just stick around. Tomorrow won’t be the same..
© 2015, cbs

Things are working relatively fine
considering there are eighty-nine
calendars anchored to my back.
That would give some folks a heart attack.

No record remains in my memory
of things that happened before age three.
Losing our home in the Great Depression
is my first authentic recollection;
but riding up front in the truck was fun
as the T-Model chugged on a furniture run,
and swirling dust in the stream of sunrays
through nail holes in the roof almost hypnotized my gaze.

Work on the farm might have been great
were it not for plowing Blackie, and our mutual hate –
but eating of the fruit of our labor
was one thing this growing boy could savor.

With high school and college quickly laid by,
serving my country (and willing to die)
brought broader horizons and great satisfaction,
as well as a means to finance education.

Medical school was a heavy load,
but it helped to pave life’s often rough road,
and it opened the door to the privilege
of serving mankind on the cutting-edge.

Internship and residency
helped smooth some rough edges on me,
becoming the final metamorphosis
to ready me for private practice.

After forty-two years of trying to “fix ‘em,”
there were so many changes in the medical system,
their methods and mine did not jive anymore,
and it was time for me to “hit the door.”

A career in writing came open to me
(which is not rewarding financially),
but it gives me a chance to express my views
which, hopefully, have helped change a life or two.

These are among the best years I’ve had,
so getting older is not so bad.
We start getting older when life is begun.
It’s getting OLD that is not an option.
© 2015, cbs