I hope all fans of Gene, The Invitational, and light verse in general will come to the Poetry & Punchlines event on Nov. 17 mentioned above -- it's free, for Pete's sake. I'll be there in the audience, heckling.
And the Sunday before that, Nov. 12, there's a Loser brunch at noon at the Indian restaurant Aditi in Kingstowne, Va., which is just a couple of miles outside the Beltway at the Van Dorn exit. GREAT buffet. (Nope, Gene won't be at that one.) RSVP at bit.ly/loserbrunch1123 so we can get a head count.
A couple of questions. Will ripe fruit be available at the poetry reading ? And, are you covering up the fact that Gene refused to curry favor with the Indian restaurant and was banned from the forthcoming brunch ?
I think the roo-roo joke is better if the first captive doesn't die, but instead is merely(?) severely physically and emotionally traumatized. Then the second captive's choice initially appears more poignant and meaningful, as he is choosing between being raped (but staying alive) and being executed, instead of being raped to death or just being killed, which would seem to be a much simpler choice. Then the payoff that there was never really a choice at all works more effectively.
I look forward to having this literary analysis of a rape joke used against me should I ever run for office.
I'm already disqualified from running for public office because of a certain joke about genocide I made during the prior incarnation of this contest at a certain formerly great metropolitan newspaper.
In the name of all that's holy, can we stop with the forensic analysis of a bad joke ? Time to put another one on the autopsy table. All kinds of knee-slappers among those who figure.
Q. Why do mathematicians confuse Halloween and Christmas?
A. Because 31 Oct = 25 Dec
Noah commands the animals to go forth and multiply. A pair of snakes replies, "We can't multiply, we're adders" – so Noah builds them a log table.
Throughout my adult life I've periodically struggled with depressive bouts that cause various small but accretive problems, such as going days at a time without checking my mail. At one point I went a week or more without checking it, and after that resolved that I would never again let things go so badly and would start making sure to check every day. So I checked the next day -- no mail. The day after -- no mail. 3, 4, 5 days in a row, no mail. What the hell? I eventually found the wherewithal to go to the post office, where I was told that there was nothing they -- the supervisory individuals at the post office -- could do, and I would have to speak to my mail carrier about it directly. Then I spent another day or two at home staking out my mailbox until I finally caught the bastard as he was making deliveries. Turns out that after I hadn't picked up my mail for a week, he unilaterally decided that I must've moved or something and simply stopped delivering my mail. He was squirrelly when I asked him what he had been doing with my mail in the meantime, but under the totality of the circumstances I'm pretty sure he was just throwing it away.
Anyway, that guy suffered exactly zero repercussions for this and is still out there (possibly not) delivering people's mail or retired on his cozy postal pension, I still occasionally have days where I am unable to function, and no lessons were learned by anyone.
On January 9, which (coincidentally, I hope) is Nixon's birthday, Informed Delivery informed me that I had 17 mail pieces to expect. Some were first class. Exactly one (a bill) was ever delivered. Yup. Mail carriers don't deliver mail if they think the mail will not be missed. The lesson I learned was to more-or-less ignore the mail.
"Meanwhile, we need questions / observations / reactions that Gene can answer right here, in real time. Roo-roo roominations will be particularly valued."
I think the term "roo-roominations" is objectively funnier.
I was debating if picking up things with my toes qualified. I also USED to be able to curl my toes and walk around like I was en pointe, to great hilarity amongst family. Now I can barely curl my big toe. Comedy is hard.
I can also pick things up with my toes, and even carry them around in this manner if I feel so inclined. Never in a million years would it have occurred to me to describe this as a knack or special ability. This whole exercise seems less like an interesting conversation between grown-ups, and more like that thing kindergarten teachers do where they ask each student in turn what's something special they can do and the kids do a cartwheel or stick their tongue out or suchlike.
The second missionary sees what happened and is given the choice. “Death? Or roo-roo?” He says, “I saw roo-roo, I’ll choose death!” The leader announces, “Death...by roo-roo!”
That's the key question. In my telling of this joke [in which the word is Bobo, it's nuns who are captured. First one lives but the second one could not bear the sin, and it's "Okay, death! But first, Bobo!"
Well it seems like this one is predicated on the idea of nuns secretly wanting to get man-laid more than fearing death whereas the original one is predicated on (male) missionaries fearing getting man-laid more than death. That's my understanding anyway.
When I was in college, I did a fair amount of plain knitting while reading literature assignments. Yes, multitasking did affect the efficiency of both tasks, so I wouldn't try it now.
For the wife who writes her To Do list on windows, wouldn't it just be simpler to start attempting the task yourself and then let your husband take over when he protests that you're doing it all wrong? That usually works for me.
My husband (who is pretty good at getting to jobs eventually) has the knack, when the materials are available (which is rarely these days) of balancing two glass Coke bottles (the vintage ones with the bottling plant embossed on the bottom) on top of a third--that is, one on the bottom, a second on top of it horizontally, and a third vertically on top of the second, lodged into just the right crevice of the bottle. (I am amazed that I can't find a photo of this online, much less a YouTube how-to video.)
If I start doing it, it's only 50/50 that he'll take over. I risk him just standing there explaining all the ways I'm doing it wrong without jumping in to help or take over. This is espeically annoying because I am an enginner and preidsposed to be able to build things, fix things, etc (with the exception of figuring out what is wrong with the computer, I'm bad with computer technology). But if he's not home, I do take advantage of the quiet to do the things.
>>>very little of my life would change if i failed to open the mail.
Good grief, Charlie Brown! I get LOTS of stuff in the mail. If I ignored the mail for more than a couple of weeks, bills would go unpaid, for one thing. Don't know how you do it. True, a lot of stuff is done online, but not all of it.
The only bills we get in the mail are from the doctor. I have everything on autopay and e-statemetns and I don't open the doctor bills, I toss them in the trash unopened and go log into the patient portal where I can pay online. However, not getting much mail hasn't made the postman's job easier... because amazon prime. Most of what we get delivered now just doesn't fit in the mailbox so he has to get out of the truck and walk it to the front porch. We do get occassional other mail like retirement account statements and new insurance cards but really, that's about it. I could (and have) safely ignored mail for months at a time.
I try to keep autopays to a minimum. A few months ago there was a data breach, and I had to get a new credit card. It took WEEKS to notify all the autopays. Moreover, it's too easy to lose track of all the things you're paying for.
"as he dug into his wallet to pull out proof. “No, that’s not it … oh, yes it is.” He changed the subject, probably because it’s objectively creepy." - In my experience, he changed the subject because bosses hate to be proved wrong.
For the guy whose family had the 1960 Chrysler station wagon, whose youngest brother was berthed in the back of the wagon: At least his youngest brother wasn't birthed in the back of the wagon.
Not a guy, actually. I am female and had three younger brothers (oh, the horror!). The youngest was probably 5 or 6 at the time, so he fit pretty snugly in the back, though I can't imagine it was really comfortable for a drive of several hundred miles. And, as it happens, he was born in Houston. Also, what is a "q: roof rack"?
I hope all fans of Gene, The Invitational, and light verse in general will come to the Poetry & Punchlines event on Nov. 17 mentioned above -- it's free, for Pete's sake. I'll be there in the audience, heckling.
And the Sunday before that, Nov. 12, there's a Loser brunch at noon at the Indian restaurant Aditi in Kingstowne, Va., which is just a couple of miles outside the Beltway at the Van Dorn exit. GREAT buffet. (Nope, Gene won't be at that one.) RSVP at bit.ly/loserbrunch1123 so we can get a head count.
A couple of questions. Will ripe fruit be available at the poetry reading ? And, are you covering up the fact that Gene refused to curry favor with the Indian restaurant and was banned from the forthcoming brunch ?
Husband: what ARE you doing?
Me: Definitely not trying to make fart noises with my eye socket.
Husband: ...
I think the roo-roo joke is better if the first captive doesn't die, but instead is merely(?) severely physically and emotionally traumatized. Then the second captive's choice initially appears more poignant and meaningful, as he is choosing between being raped (but staying alive) and being executed, instead of being raped to death or just being killed, which would seem to be a much simpler choice. Then the payoff that there was never really a choice at all works more effectively.
I look forward to having this literary analysis of a rape joke used against me should I ever run for office.
I'm already disqualified from running for public office because of a certain joke about genocide I made during the prior incarnation of this contest at a certain formerly great metropolitan newspaper.
A lot of people told me my genocide jokes aren't funny, but I took care of them.
In the name of all that's holy, can we stop with the forensic analysis of a bad joke ? Time to put another one on the autopsy table. All kinds of knee-slappers among those who figure.
Q. Why do mathematicians confuse Halloween and Christmas?
A. Because 31 Oct = 25 Dec
Noah commands the animals to go forth and multiply. A pair of snakes replies, "We can't multiply, we're adders" – so Noah builds them a log table.
I know. I know. Tissue ?
Throughout my adult life I've periodically struggled with depressive bouts that cause various small but accretive problems, such as going days at a time without checking my mail. At one point I went a week or more without checking it, and after that resolved that I would never again let things go so badly and would start making sure to check every day. So I checked the next day -- no mail. The day after -- no mail. 3, 4, 5 days in a row, no mail. What the hell? I eventually found the wherewithal to go to the post office, where I was told that there was nothing they -- the supervisory individuals at the post office -- could do, and I would have to speak to my mail carrier about it directly. Then I spent another day or two at home staking out my mailbox until I finally caught the bastard as he was making deliveries. Turns out that after I hadn't picked up my mail for a week, he unilaterally decided that I must've moved or something and simply stopped delivering my mail. He was squirrelly when I asked him what he had been doing with my mail in the meantime, but under the totality of the circumstances I'm pretty sure he was just throwing it away.
Anyway, that guy suffered exactly zero repercussions for this and is still out there (possibly not) delivering people's mail or retired on his cozy postal pension, I still occasionally have days where I am unable to function, and no lessons were learned by anyone.
On January 9, which (coincidentally, I hope) is Nixon's birthday, Informed Delivery informed me that I had 17 mail pieces to expect. Some were first class. Exactly one (a bill) was ever delivered. Yup. Mail carriers don't deliver mail if they think the mail will not be missed. The lesson I learned was to more-or-less ignore the mail.
Congratulations to overcoming--even temporarily--the black dog!
"Meanwhile, we need questions / observations / reactions that Gene can answer right here, in real time. Roo-roo roominations will be particularly valued."
I think the term "roo-roominations" is objectively funnier.
I was debating if picking up things with my toes qualified. I also USED to be able to curl my toes and walk around like I was en pointe, to great hilarity amongst family. Now I can barely curl my big toe. Comedy is hard.
I can also pick things up with my toes, and even carry them around in this manner if I feel so inclined. Never in a million years would it have occurred to me to describe this as a knack or special ability. This whole exercise seems less like an interesting conversation between grown-ups, and more like that thing kindergarten teachers do where they ask each student in turn what's something special they can do and the kids do a cartwheel or stick their tongue out or suchlike.
I'm not answering the poll because in the setup for the first punchline, the captive survives the ordeal but has to live with the horror.
How is that implied? You lost me.
I noticed the same, so I chose the first.
But also, I thought the debate was over it should be "but first, roo-roo", or "but first, a little roo-roo".
Right we’re missing part of the joke’s telling.
The second missionary sees what happened and is given the choice. “Death? Or roo-roo?” He says, “I saw roo-roo, I’ll choose death!” The leader announces, “Death...by roo-roo!”
That's the key question. In my telling of this joke [in which the word is Bobo, it's nuns who are captured. First one lives but the second one could not bear the sin, and it's "Okay, death! But first, Bobo!"
That's a terrible version. Sorry.
Yes, it is. I should have said, in the telling of the joke I heard -- I hate the joke altogether and don't tell it.
Well it seems like this one is predicated on the idea of nuns secretly wanting to get man-laid more than fearing death whereas the original one is predicated on (male) missionaries fearing getting man-laid more than death. That's my understanding anyway.
And that's why this one is not funny whereas the other one is, I think.
Oh I am glad to know someone else heard it Bo-Bo not roo-roo. But I did hear Gene’s version, with the “But first a little Bo-Bo punchline” —not nuns
When I was in college, I did a fair amount of plain knitting while reading literature assignments. Yes, multitasking did affect the efficiency of both tasks, so I wouldn't try it now.
For the wife who writes her To Do list on windows, wouldn't it just be simpler to start attempting the task yourself and then let your husband take over when he protests that you're doing it all wrong? That usually works for me.
My husband (who is pretty good at getting to jobs eventually) has the knack, when the materials are available (which is rarely these days) of balancing two glass Coke bottles (the vintage ones with the bottling plant embossed on the bottom) on top of a third--that is, one on the bottom, a second on top of it horizontally, and a third vertically on top of the second, lodged into just the right crevice of the bottle. (I am amazed that I can't find a photo of this online, much less a YouTube how-to video.)
If I start doing it, it's only 50/50 that he'll take over. I risk him just standing there explaining all the ways I'm doing it wrong without jumping in to help or take over. This is espeically annoying because I am an enginner and preidsposed to be able to build things, fix things, etc (with the exception of figuring out what is wrong with the computer, I'm bad with computer technology). But if he's not home, I do take advantage of the quiet to do the things.
Oh, THAT'S what that song is called!! Worst ear worm ever.
>>>very little of my life would change if i failed to open the mail.
Good grief, Charlie Brown! I get LOTS of stuff in the mail. If I ignored the mail for more than a couple of weeks, bills would go unpaid, for one thing. Don't know how you do it. True, a lot of stuff is done online, but not all of it.
The only bills we get in the mail are from the doctor. I have everything on autopay and e-statemetns and I don't open the doctor bills, I toss them in the trash unopened and go log into the patient portal where I can pay online. However, not getting much mail hasn't made the postman's job easier... because amazon prime. Most of what we get delivered now just doesn't fit in the mailbox so he has to get out of the truck and walk it to the front porch. We do get occassional other mail like retirement account statements and new insurance cards but really, that's about it. I could (and have) safely ignored mail for months at a time.
I try to keep autopays to a minimum. A few months ago there was a data breach, and I had to get a new credit card. It took WEEKS to notify all the autopays. Moreover, it's too easy to lose track of all the things you're paying for.
"as he dug into his wallet to pull out proof. “No, that’s not it … oh, yes it is.” He changed the subject, probably because it’s objectively creepy." - In my experience, he changed the subject because bosses hate to be proved wrong.
For the guy whose family had the 1960 Chrysler station wagon, whose youngest brother was berthed in the back of the wagon: At least his youngest brother wasn't birthed in the back of the wagon.
You are assuming a great deal. :)
Not a guy, actually. I am female and had three younger brothers (oh, the horror!). The youngest was probably 5 or 6 at the time, so he fit pretty snugly in the back, though I can't imagine it was really comfortable for a drive of several hundred miles. And, as it happens, he was born in Houston. Also, what is a "q: roof rack"?
Clicking technique pays off in certain game shows, too. :)
Lynne is a former Jeopardy! winner. Fast click.
It is half that game, TBH, being able to beat the other players on the buzzer.