Nine Great Punchlines

February 7, 2010

Peter Sellers–The one and only Inspector Clouseau

#1 You had a bad week, so I should suffer?

Reb Nachum, from the play The Fiddler on the Roof

The town beggar says this to Tevye, demonstrating an absurd sense of entitlement

#2 Nobody’s Perfect

Man smitten by Jack Lemmon in drag in the movie Some Like it Hot

Final scene

#3 I’m thinking it over.

Jack Benny from The Jack Benny Show

Armed Mugger Says, “Your money or your life.”

Jack pauses (it’s all about the pause) and says nothing.

Mugger says, “C’mon buddy, I haven’t got all day.”

Jack pauses again and finally says, “I’m thinking it over.”

#4 WTF is moribund?

David Steinberg from classic collegiate routine.

Sorry, can’t find it on youtube, and it would be heretical to attempt to recreate it.

#5 We could sew the ends of our dicks back on.

Benjamin Siegel (played by Eric Roberts) from the HBO movie Lansky

Ben (don’t call me Bugsy) Siegel’s retort when famed (or notorious, depending on your perspective) Jewish mobster Arnold Rothenberg Rothstein tries to recruit the young Jewish hoodlums Siegel and Meyer Lansky by suggesting that they will never be allowed to rise up among the Italian crime organizations. (Screenplay by David Mamet.)

#6 I love wrong numbers

Danny Devito from the movie The War of the Roses.

You’ll have to watch the movie. (My mom reads this blog.)

#7 We’re against it, Ted

Mary Richards from The Mary Tyler Moore Show

Mary’s response when asked by dim-witted newscaster Ted Knight what the network’s position is in an editorial about child abuse

#8 Zat iz not my dog

German man in hotel to Peter Sellers from the movie The Pink Panther Strikes Again

Does your dog bite?

#9 You slut!

Bill Murray from the movie Tootsie

My words cannot adequately describe this marvelous scene, so again, you’ll have to watch the movie.

by Richard W. Bray

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What’s the Matter with Kids these Days?, Part 473—It’s all about the Music, Man

February 4, 2010

What’s the Matter with Kids these Days?, Part 473—It’s all about the Music, Man

(Disclaimer: I don’t think that all new music is execrable; from what I’ve heard, much of it is quite good. While many of my contemporaries are content to listen to the same Classic Rock standards over and over, I’m actually open-minded enough to watch Austin City Limits even when they feature so-called Indie Rock groups)

This headline, Young People and ipods have Utterly Destroyed Music, reflects a nearly ubiquitous conversation among people my age these days. The argument goes something like this:

When we were young, music really meant something, man. Our music defined a generation and helped to end a war. This is a stark contrast to today‘s shallow and meaningless music, which is all about bling, sex and superficiality, man. Music is so sucky because Kids These Days are so busy navel-gazing, playing video games, and updating their Facespace pages that they don’t have the same kind of passion for music that our own glorious generation once did, man.

(This imaginary disgruntled DFH reminds me of a roommate I had in college with Ray Manzerek Disease, a verbal tic wherein the speaker is unable to utter three consecutive sentences without saying the word man)

Of course, What’s the Matter with Kids these Days? has been a common complaint at least since the time of Aristotle. (And a healthy dose of Mike Males is always a good antidote for this type of specious thinking.)

But there clearly is a difference in the way young people listen to music today. Without getting into to whether or not music means as much to today’s adolescents as it did to previous generations (how could you possibly quantify such a thing?) I will briefly note a few ways in which technology has changed music.

Today music is cheap, portable, durable and easily transferable, but that wasn’t always the case.

Back in the day, the standard delivery system for music (LPs), were much bulkier and more fragile than, say, MP3s. Records were big and delicate. They were kept inside a paper sleeve inside a cardboard sleeve (and many people placed the entire album inside a plastic sleeve for extra protection.) Records were easily-broken and they could only be held by the edges because mere fingerprints could ruin them. Although portable record players existed, they were weren’t exactly high fidelity (a term which was once freighted with a sanctified resonance among music lovers.) A good record collection and stereo, often including gargantuan speakers, was not only expensive, but it could take up practically an entire living room.

So do young people appreciate music less than we did because it’s practically free and you can put it in your pocket?

I don’t know, man.

by Richard W. Bray

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New Yorker Magazine Buries the Lede in Puff Piece on Education Secretary Duncan

January 31, 2010

Arne Duncan

New Yorker Buries the Lede in Puff Piece on Secretary Duncan

I’m glad that Carlo Rotella decided to do some actual reporting in his treacly ode to Education Secretary Arne Duncan in the February 1st edition of the New Yorker Magazine. Unfortunately, it’s buried at the end of the article. After four puffy pages wherein we learn that Duncan is a marvelous human being who loves basketball, the author finally begins to do his job as a reporter, and the results aren’t very comforting. You see, there isn’t a whole lot of evidence that the programs Duncan is spending billions of taxpayer dollars on actually work. I’ll let the quotations speak for themselves:

Diane Whitmore Schanzenbach of the University of Chicago’s Harris School of Public Policy Studies (who describes herself as “basically in favor of Duncan’s policies”) gives this rousing endorsement of the upshot of Duncan‘s policies as head of the Chicago schools: “I don’t think there’s any real evidence that people are made worse off, and there’s limited evidence that that they’re making things better.”

Kenneth Saltman, professor of education at DePaul University, calls Duncan a “hatchet man for (Mayor) Daley” and a “militant privatizer who label(ed) schools in black communities as failures to justify opening new charters that could skim off the highest-achieving students, thereby widening the gap between winners and losers.”

Erik Hanishek of the Stanford Institution “is one of the most outspoken senior academics in the market forces camp. But even he describes the reforms that Duncan has pursued as ‘the best guesses for how to go forward’”

According to Rotella, Diane Ravitch of New York University believes that Duncan’s so-called “market forces party can offer nothing better than a vague idea that their reforms should work, rather than evidence that they actually do.” “You shouldn’t set the agenda if you’re not sure the agenda works,” argues Ravitch.

Steven Rivkin, an economist at Amherst, “worries that Duncan may be pushing too hard for policies which haven’t proven effective.”

by Richard W. Bray

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Posted in Education, Morsel | 3 Comments »

What is a Crappy Little Country, Mr. Goldberg?

January 21, 2010

What did you do in the Global War on Terror, Daddy?

(Editor’s Note: I am not the person who brought Mr. Goldberg’s family into this. It was Jonah Goldberg who hid inside his own daughter’s skirt when it came time to fight in a war he so assiduously promoted)

People move into violence by a disposition to treat the world as entirely theirs.

–Alfred Kazin


Every ten years or so, the United States needs to pick up some small crappy little country and throw it against the wall, just to show the world we mean business.

Jonah Goldberg

What is a Crappy Little Country, Mr. Goldberg?


What’s a crappy little country, Mr. Goldberg?
When cluster bombs are dropped upon its conscripts
Is it fecal matter rather than blood
That drains from their bodies?
When a little girl in a crappy little country cries
Because the car transporting her family
Was shot to bits at a checkpoint
Does she cry saline tears, like your daughter?
Or does liquefied shit ooze out of her eyes?
Or am I just taking your metaphor too literally?

by Richard W. Bray

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Petcipe #1 Chessie and Sadie’s Special (by Marjorie)

January 19, 2010

Sadie’s Special

This recipe is adapted from a dish prepared by a Korean-American former department secretary at an urban university.

    Ingredients

3 packages of Ramen noodles (discard the flavor packets)

3 medium or 2 large brown onions

3 medium or 2 large bell peppers

6 medium or 4 large tomatoes

Bean sprouts equivalent in bulk to the amount of noodles

A good vegetable oil

Water (about 3 cups)

Catsup, soy sauce, worcestershire sauce to taste (a bit of teriyaki sauce can also be added)

(the amounts of the ingredients can be expanded or contracted, the proportions should
remain the same)

    Directions

Cut the onions, peppers and tomatoes into half inch pieces (you can chop the peppers and tomatoes while the onions are cooking); heat the oil in a Dutch oven on the stove top (or in a large electric skillet) and brown the ramen noodles, turning when each side of the block of noodles has browned; remove and reserve the noodles; remove the oil and take out the bits of noodle that have come loose; return the oil to the kettle and add the onion; cook onions until they are limp and translucent; add the peppers, and after a bit the tomatoes and simmer for a while, but do not over cook the peppers; add the noodles and enough water to soften them; add the bean sprouts and simmer until the noodles are cooked; add the catsup and soy sauce to taste (it takes quite a lot of catsup); some worcestershire sauce and teriyaki sauce may also be used.

Note: This is a vegetarian version. The original recipe included a pound of cut up steak cooked with the onions. Alternatively a pound of cooked shrimp could be added during the final stage.

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Spontaneous Western Haiku #1996 (by Wade)

January 9, 2010

(We are thrilled to announce new guest poster”> Wade, an artist who expresses himself in many media. He paints self-portraits on a variety of surfaces including toasters and other people’s artwork, and has recently turned his attention to dismantling, reconstituting, and painting discarded, often headless dolls which are then nestled together in the “basket o’babies.”

He is also a fixture at Southern California poetry readings and has published a book of poems entitled Madcap: Spontaneous Western Haiku by a Guy Named Wade. One of his first art pieces involved a doll’s head impaled on a skimmer pole, entitled “Baby Wade’s Head on a Stick.” It was utilized for emphasis during his poetry readings and lead to his self-portrait series.

He lives in Southern California with his wife and their furry children and is hard at work on the next painting in his admittedly egotistical self-portrait series.)

INSTRUCTIONS TO THE READER

Dear reader, read one line of the Spontaneous
Western Haiku #1996 per day. Write the day’s line
down on a piece of paper, put the paper in your pocket
and refer to it throughout the day. On the fourth day,
read the poem in its entirety. After that, your guess is
as good as mine. Enjoy

Spontaneous Western Haiku #1996

Old places, new days

Old roles are recast

A clown (The Ghost) sits alone

EDTIOR’S NOTE:

Hey Kids! Want more poetic bang for your buck?
Rearrange the order of the Spontaneous Western
Haiku’s first three lines and repeat the previous
instructions

Have fun!

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Just Tell me that I’m Coming Home

December 27, 2009

bbbbsoldier

Just Tell me that I’m Coming Home

I just got my orders
To head overseas
Well, I will get right on it
At your service, KMD

Don’t tell me that I’m fighting
For peace and liberty
And the future of the Free World
It all depends on me
Don’t tell me Jesus loves me
For going over there
Just tell me that I’m coming home
That’s all I wanna’ hear

I signed up to guard my family
And watch them in their sleep
Politicians mocked my uniform
And sent me to Tikrit

Don’t tell me that I’m fighting
For peace and liberty
And the future of the Free World
It all depends on me
Don’t tell me Jesus loves me
For going over there
Just tell me that I’m coming home
That’s all I wanna’ hear

When I asked my sergeant,
“Can we go home some time?”
He just said, “Stay frosty
And toe the f—ing line!”

Don’t tell me that I’m fighting
For peace and liberty
And the future of the Free World
It all depends on me
Don’t tell me that Jesus me
For going over there
Just tell me that I’m coming home
That’s all I wanna’ hear

I’ll drink whiskey and dance a tango
When I get back to town
Don’t reckon that will happen
Before the leaves turn brown

Don’t tell me that I’m fighting
For peace and liberty
And the future of the Free World
It all depends on me
Don’t tell me that God loves me
For going over there
Just tell me that I’m coming home
That’s all I wanna’ hear

I could get my head blown off
Or come home with a stump
Or KBR could fry my balls
Next time I take a dump

Don’t tell me that I’m fighting
For peace and liberty
And the future of the Free World
It all depends on me
Don’t tell me that God loves me
For going over there
Just tell me that I’m coming home
That’s all I wanna’ hear

I’ve seen buddies blown to bits
I’ve heard children cry
For parents who ain’t coming back
But who can tell me why?

Don’t tell me that I’m fighting
For peace and liberty
And the future of the Free World
It all depends on me
Don’t tell me Jesus loves me
For going over there
Just tell me that I’m coming home
That’s all I wanna’ hear

by Richard W. Bray

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An Excellent Place to Meet Losers

December 20, 2009

An Excellent Place to Meet Losers

Somehow the blue and the bluer
Straggled on in from the street
This place might not look like a sewer
But it reeks with the stench of defeat

Such an
Excellent place to meet losers
And guys who abandoned their wives
And staggering babbling bruisers
And people who screwed up their lives

There’s plenty of cursin’ and fussin’
But at least we all can agree
The most suitable barroom discussion:
The drunk who’s more worse off than me

Such an
Excellent place to meet losers
And guys who abandoned their wives
And staggering babbling bruisers
And people who screwed up their lives

Don’t ask me just how I got here
I don’t like to live in the past
I’m happy so long as I got beer
I’m certain this won’t be my last

Such an
Excellent place to meet losers
And guys who abandoned their wives
And staggering babbling bruisers
And people who screwed up their lives

So if you are looking for sinners
Grasping at bottles and straws
Or hopelessly gossiping grinners
And people who broke every law

Check out this
Excellent place to meet losers
And guys who abandoned their wives
And staggering babbling bruisers
And people who screwed up their lives

by Richard W. Bray

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The House of the Dead

October 30, 2009

The House of the Dead

Terrence, Timmy, Becky and Fred
Went to visit The House of the Dead
Terrence was frightened but Becky said,
“C’mon guys, it’s just an old shed”
Timmy stammered, “Did you hear about Ned?
He disappeared the night he was wed.
His widow claims that although he fled
Spirits dragged him back to the House of the Dead”

Becky said, “Timmy, you’re just a scardy cat.
Ned went back to pick up his hat.”
“I heard,” said Fred “That he found his hat
But lost his life. How about that?”
“You know,” Said Terrence, “I think we should scat
Cuz’ I just saw a big black cat.”
Then Tommy bumped into a great big bat
And screamed for his mommy who had warned him that

The House of the Dead was no place to play
And prudent people knew to stay away
But Becky was fearless on that fateful day.
She continued down the spooky walkway
Terrence and Timmy turned and ran away
But Fred got up the nerve to say,
“Now Becky you know I’d rather not stay
But I couldn’t just leave you alone that way.”

Becky said, “Terrence, do what you will
I’m not about to miss out on a thrill.”
Terrence shrugged off a great big chill
And followed her up the haunted hill
The two trekked on by force of will
And boldly ignored with majestic skill
The squeals and screeches, wicked and shrill
Made by spirits that maim and kill

After they opened the creaking door
She grabbed his arm and they walked ‘cross the floor
Then they saw what they were looking for
Grisly guts and gruesome gore
And a hideous specter which they could not ignore
Appeared behind them and locked the door
He said, “Have a seat, I do implore
And I’ll tell you a story about the woman I adore

Her name is Rebecca, just like you
She died in Seventeen Seventy-Two
When a man named Oliver Sutton Drew
Shot her and her lover, Winthrop Larue
Oliver died a young man too
He was sent to the gallows for the people he slew
Now the three of us have nothing to do
But frighten poor young fools like you.”

Two bloody bodies appeared next to Fred
Their faces filled with terror and dread
Becky grabbed a bar made of lead
And threw it through the window next to the bed
As one of the ghosts removed its head
They tried to climb out then dove instead
They followed their trail back where it led
And never returned to The House of the Dead

by Richard W. Bray

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Posted in Halloween Poems, Poetry for Kids | 1 Comment »

A Monster’s Worst Nightmare

October 29, 2009

A Monster’s Worst Nightmare

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There was a dragon in my room
I slew him with a fork and spoon
And cooked it on my brand new grill
My mom and dad couldn’t get their fill

A vampire tried to bite my neck
I turned and said, “Hey, what the heck?”
I grabbed a pencil from my desk
And shoved it deep into his chest

While walking on a moonlit night
A werewolf tried to pick a fight
But I showed him my silver knife
And he went running for his life

A haunted house is where I play
And when a ghost gets in my way
One curse and three Latin chants
Scares him right out of his pants

Frankenstein thinks he’s so vicious
And I’ll admit he is pernicious
But he’s so easy to short-circuit
If you know just how to work it

The loch-Ness monster got in my tub
When it was time to rub-dub-dub
I lured him like all other fishes
My family said he was delicious

I’m not a guy who likes to boast
But mess with me and you are toast
Warning monsters: If you see me
I suggest you let me be

by Richard W. Bray

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Posted in Halloween Poems, Poetry for Kids | 1 Comment »

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