Category Archives: Humor


    What does a colander, kidney stones and Church have in common?  This is the question on the front of every thinking person’s frontal brain lobe, isn’t it?  If it is, here is my answer to my own question.

     They all came together one hot, summer Sunday morning at our Church.  It began when one of our Church ladies started cornering people who were still inside the Church.  She was carrying one of those short, squatty plastic glasses that a person gets from the local convenience store from the soda fountain.  The cup appeared to be filled with something cold because beads of condensation had formed on the glass and were temptingly sliding down its side.  Was it a soft drink, iced tea or just ice water?  Any one of them would have been welcomed on such a warm day as it was turning out to be.  What I had hoped for, what I had imagined in the cup was not at all what the cup actually held.

      Like the rest of the unsuspecting Church people whom the woman had trapped, I too was given the opportunity to see something only a few eyes have seen.  At least, that is the feeling the woman was trying to push-off on us.  

     “Ivan, you gotta see this”.

     I had to see it?  What if I didn’t want to?  I wished I had gone with my frontal brain lobe thought that said, “Run far and fast.  You ain’t going to wanna see that!”  Sadly, I didn’t listen to myself!

     Frozen in the clear ice of the glass, suspended in cold storage, were small, smooth, hardened clumps of what looked like peanut butter with a slight case of Jaundice.   Yellowish, beanish looking orbs. 

     After the show of’ show and tell’ came the ‘tell’ part and tell she did.  Her explanation blasted any thought of wanting an ice-cold, refreshing drink far from my mind because of what we were having deciphered to us.  Kidney stones.  Those globulations on ice were kidney stones.  To be more precise, they were her kidney stones!  She had cultivated, produced, grown and somehow harvested her own kidney stones. They were locally raised, one owner, genuine kidney stones from a lady in our Church.  What more could a person ask for?  More details? Definitely not! Not me.  I was not going to ask for any details.  I had seen enough and had managed quite well to keep my breakfast down, up to that point, though it was becoming somewhat of a struggle. 

     I didn’t need to ask.  She didn’t need to be asked.  She was the queen of show and tell!  I knew she had not recently had any operations because she had not missed any Church. Her story of explanation was deep with explanation of her taking some kind of special medication to get the stones, her stones in motion.  In order to tell if the procedure was doing any good, she had placed a kitchen colander in the toilet every time she ‘did her duty’.  That was how she had managed to catch and collected the stones.  For a woman who did a lot of fishing, why she didn’t believe in the ‘catch and release’ idea, I’ll never know.   After catching, all that was left for her to do was to add water to her specimens, freeze them to keep them fresh, just so she could show them to everyone at Church.  That included all who were not interested or had weak stomaches which basically covered every person in our Church!  The good news in all of this is that no one puked, at least not publicly. 

I have come up with this CONCLUSION: In the end, I thought that a person like her was just the one to start a chapter of KSAP or Kidney Stone Anonymous Passers.  They could meet weekly after completing a Twelve Flush Program.  One by one, they could stand and say something like, “Hi, my name is so and so and in the past, I have been kidney stoned.  Not anymore.  I have been relieved.  Let us now pass the plastic glass around.”

     By the way, that’s all I have to say on the subject,  just in passing!

     (The above sketch is another of my early attempts to sketch my thoughts with the only resources I had available at the time.)




     Generally, I put on my pants just like anyone else.  First one leg-Okay, take them off.  Had started putting them on backwards.  Usually, I’m not always wide awake when I first wake up so you can understand how a guy like me could make a  simple mistake like that!  One leg on at a time, zipper in the front.  All is well.  But then, one morning, there was one thing in particular that really irritated me.  It really rubbed me the wrong way.  What caught me a little off-center was the seam running up and down the back of my work pants.  Let me explain.

     A few days earlier, I decided that it would be cheaper for me to buy my work uniforms rather than rent them.  That way, when I laundered my clothes, I had the ability to spread the dirt, grease, odors and all sorts of germs from my work place to the clothes of the rest of my family!  Yep, I could save money by owning my own dark prison blue pants and light blue, pinstriped shirts.  In other words, clothing that could also be known as ‘Picasso grease rags’.  The whole idea was that if I repaired my own buttons, furnished my own laundry soap, repaired my own rips and replaced the clothing when it became thread-bare, it would be cheaper than paying someone else to do it all for me.  Yes siree, I was going to save myself a bundle by purchasing my work clothes!

     I would be buying five sets of clothes, a set for each work day though I had never  considered what I would do if I ever had to work on a Saturday!  So, since I was on a thrifty, tightwad money-saving spree, I was not going to buy new uniforms, I was going to buy used ones.  I was offered that option.  Compared to buying new blue jeans, it would be cheaper to buy the uniforms. 

     As soon as the guy who delivered the uniforms to my other co-workers, I would talk to him about my purchase.   When he came around, I approached him and he asked me what I had in mind.   I didn’t want to sound too cheap but finally, I weasled my way around to the question of how much my uniforms would cost.  He started at $15 and I silently panicked. 

     “$15 for a pair of pants and a shirt”? I asked.

     “That’s right”, he said.  “$15 for the shirt and another $15 for the pants”.

     Let’s see; $15 times two times five would run me$150!  $150! Was he crazy?  I quickly asked him if he had anything else, something I wouldn’t have to take out a second mortgage on the White House for!

     He looked me up and down til I felt a little uneasy.  Then he confided that he could get me some Grade D uniforms.  Finally, we were talking!  Well, he was talking, I was listening.  Granted, the other guys at my work place were being rented Grade B uniforms, as I had been so how much difference could there be between Grade D and Grade B?  Of course, it still depended on how much it was going to cost me to buy my clothing before I signed on any dotted line.

     $1.50 was the price I was quoted so I asked if that was $1.50 for both the shirt and the pants to which he gave me a crusty look as well as a crusty reply. 

     “$1.50 for the shirt.  $1.50 for the pants.  $1.50 apiece!” 

     He seemed to turn up the volume when he said “apiece”.  Maybe it was just the acoustics in my head but I don’t think so! 

     I was still doing the math in my head when he said, “$15”!

     Again, the pitch level of his voice was a little bit more than I thought it should have been.  He turned and headed for his van.  As he drove off, I guess I never realized that one of those big delivery vans could turn a corner so fast and still keep it on two wheels!  

     I could hardly wait for the week to pass, the end of which would bring my new “threads” to me!  

     Sure enough, bright and early the next Friday morning, the uniform man showed up with a bundle of freshly laundered, crisp looking uniforms for the rest of the guys.  Poor suckers!  Renting when they could buy!  What losers!

     After hanging up the uniforms, the man stopped long enough to explain to me that he did not have my uniforms that day. As a matter of fact, he was hand-picking my uniforms, personally, for a guy like me.  As it turned out, I would wait another two weeks before my clothes finally showed up.  After giving me my new possessions, he again seemed to leave on two wheels, this time appearing to be laughing up his sleeve, so to speak.  (A little bit hard to do since he was wearing short sleeves.)

     Five o’clock the next Monday morning rolled around way too soon as all Monday mornings do but I was excited that the day would see me in my newly acquired clothes.  It was going to be a day I would remember, one that would stand out more than others.

     I slipped on my uniform shirt and sniffed deeply the odor of cheap laundry soap.  As I reached the top button to finish buttoning up, I noticed that there was an extra button-hole. Upon further inspection, I discovered that one of the middle buttons were missing which had caused me to mismatch about half of the buttons.  All I could do to deal with the situation was to deal with the situation like a reasoning adult should do.  I could just set that shirt aside to be repaired later, get another shirt and continue.  Or, I could….just let it go.  If I didn’t allow my shirt to ‘pooch’, the missing button was hardly noticeable.

     I went for the pants next because, well, they were the next thing I needed to put on.  Pulling them on, I immediately began to wonder if I had put them on backwards because of the uncomfortable feeling I was getting.  My left hind side was feeling a little bit restricted, more so than my right side.  Not a proper feeling.  I tried twisting the pants to the right while keeping the back seam right where it should be, directly in the center.  My left side still felt way too tight, like my pants were holding that side of my posterior in a death grip, trying to suffocate it.  Try as I might, no amount of adjusting and adjustment would remedy the out-of-balance situation.  Slowly, carefully, cautiously and awkwardly, I backed up towards the mirror on the medicine cabinet mounted in the wall above the hand sink.  That feat in itself was hard but somehow, I got the view I was looking for.  Sure enough, my back side appeared to be out of kilter. 

     By the time I had made the assessment, it was getting late enough that I needed to be heading out of the door, off to work.   On the drive there, for some reason, I kept trying to rearrange and shift and make things right but all to no avail.  The seam that had gone astray would not be tamed.  No amount of digging could fix the crooked ‘terrorizer’.  The longer the day wore on, the worse the chaffing got but I felt that no matter how bad the situation was, I could put up with it for 1/5 of my work week.  At least the other four newly purchased pants would make up for the one bad sheep of the pant flock. 

     Sadly, I could not have been more wrong.  Yes, every pair of pants were in next to new condition with few stains, rips and working zippers.  Of course!  Whoever had previously rented them had probably worn them just once before they were exchanged for pants that were fit for humans, not aliens, to wear! 

     On top of the lop-sided fitting pants, there were also the zippers that wouldn’t stay zipped, pockets without bottoms or pockets sewn shut at the top.  I could deal with my change sliding down my leg and sometimes dropping in my shoes.  I could handle not being able to put both of my hands into their respective pockets and I got in the habit of checking often for fallen zippers.  But what I could not get past was the idea that if I continued wearing such ill-fitting pants, I could be deformed on the back side for the rest of my life. 

     What did I do?  What could I do?  I endured till I wore those uniforms completely out and wouldn’t you know it?  Those were the ones that lasted me the longest in my working career. 

     Anyhow, this is my story and I’m sticking to it.

     Regarding my uniforms, did I mention they were USED TOO?


Of mice and men and Max.  Forget the mice and men. 

 Max thinks it’s all about Max!


     Max is our cat.  Originally, she was free but we have paid dearly for her ever since she first owned us.


      To begin with, her name is Max because, when we first got her, we thought she was a guy cat, a male.  She soon proved she wasn’t but by the time we figured out her sex, the name “Max” had stuck.  Personally, I think “Maxine” would have been just as sticky but not so with my kids so she has been “Max” ever since. 

      Max first made her appearance on our front porch as a small black ball of fluffy kitten.  Sure, she was cute but we (my wife and I) had agreed we were not going to have pets, neither cat or dog.  Of course that rule had already been broken because we already had four goldfish and a turtle.  We would not have had goldfish except for the fact that we  had bought some goldfish for the  turtle (Hank) to eat.  Hank was still rather small and for some reason, would not eat more than one or two.  Both Hank and the gold-fish continued to grow, each in separate containers of course.  So……like I said, we already had no pets!

     I was to find out later from my pre-teen son that Max, the cute, little kitty had looked so hungry that he fed it a can of tuna while I was at work.  When I came home, the kitty was still hanging around and only after much inquiry, I found out the rest of the story. My son was not the only one to feed her a can of tuna.  My wife had also fed the kitty a can of tuna as well.  No wonder the little fur ball stuck around!  When I was asked by the rest of my family if we could keep the kitten, I stuck to my guns and said, “No”.  Evidently, my guns were shooting blanks because it wasn’t very long before Max took up permanent residence on the porch!  I don’t know how many cans of tuna we went through but enough that Max saw no need to look for food anywhere else.  I’m sure she was hooked that first day she received the double dose of canned fish she had been given.

     For an outdoor, front porch cat, Max sure spent a lot of time inside but at nights, she definitely stayed outside. I am humbled to say that rule lasted less than a week .  She moved in and went from canned tuna to bags of cat food. 

     If feeding her had been the end of the expenses we incurred on Max’s account, I might have been content to write her off as just another member of the family.  As expected, the expenses didn’t stop there.  That’s where they began. 

     Not so far into her life, Max’s hormones decided to wake up.  During all hours and especially in the middle of the night, Max sent up pathetic calls hoping to attract any stray tom-cat within 500 miles of our neighborhood!  What she attracted was my wrath.  I hated the noise that emitted from the depths of her throat.  Not the cute story book, “Meow! but instead, a “Maw!  Maw!  Mawwwwwww!  MAAAAAWWWW!!!!!!!  Over and over and over again!  She would lower her front end, much like a car with hydraulics, raise her back-end, twitch her tail and bawl.    MAAAAWWWWWWW!!!!!!!   Nothing was going to satisfy her except a male which she was so desperately seeking and which we were continually shooing away from our front door.  Suddenly, tom cats came from everywhere.  Cats we had never seen before.  Cats, which would never have come near a house that had six kids of our own and loads of neighborhood kids daily.   Each one made it’s personal appearance, hoping to satisfy Max’s longings. 

     I felt compelled to help Max’s situation and mine out at the same time.  Within days, I fixed everything by having Max fixed which might I be quick to point out, cost me a bundle.  How can a few small cuts, some stitches and so forth cost so much money?  Once Max recovered, the noise quit and so did the visits from the Toms.

     And a litter box and litter, cat toys and cat nip to fill those toys.  All for a free cat!  Another expense came when distemper shots were deemed necessary.  Even after the shots, she still had a temper!

     And then there were the flea treatments.  At first, we allowed her to remain an indoor/outdoor cat.  Whenever she needed to relieve herself, we would let her out and she would use the neighbor’s flowerbed.  For some reason, that neighbor, the one she visited, the only one with a flower bed, hated us!  Whenever Max went out , for whatever reason or excuse she had, she usually came back in with visitors.  I hate fleas!  Max seemed indifferent to them, except for the constant scratching and itching.  To make matters worse, her “guests” would leave her fur to take up residency anywhere on her humans!  I grew to hate fleas even more than I had before.  Nothing says creepy more than finding fleas on one’s body!  This flea scenario happened a few times till we decided to keep Max as an indoor only cat.  Even that didn’t fully solve the flea problem though.  Our kids visited other kids who had cats.  Their cats were outdoor cats and therefore were hosts to fleas.  Some of those fleas ended up on my kids which in turn brought them home to Max and the rest of us.  Time for another flea treatment.

     But lest I digress from my original theme, (you know I already did), I must say, “You are such a Garfield, Max”!  By that I mean that we have a cat much like Garfield who doesn’t act like a cat when it comes to mice.  Garfield will not raise a paw against a mouse.  Neither will Max!  We had a mouse and I’m sure Max was well aware of it.  Did she do anything about it?  Not a thing!  I ended up buying a mouse trap to do her dirty work!

     Has Max always been so anti-cat?  No.  When she was younger, she brought in dead birds and lovingly stashed them under beds and livingroom furniture.  She always sat in the window and twitched her tail like crazy at birds and squirrels across the street.  She wanted them so badly that it almost killed her when she couldn’t go out.  Not so now days.  It’s like she retired from normal household duties and cat-like responsibilities.  She gave up her animal nature in exchange for a bowl of bagged food and another bowl of water. 

     Sometimes, when Max eats, Max pukes!  She doesn’t need the excuse of hacking up a hairball, she just does it because she can.  She will sit in the most unladylike fashion and lick herself in more places than you care to know!  When she licks, she accumulates hair and when too much hair is accumulated to pass through to the kitty box, she regurgitates it up, usually along with some freshly swallowed cat food.  Sadly, both of my girls which are still at home and my wife can not handle handling cat puke.  Their warnings are, “If we clean it up, you end up cleaning up Max’s puke and ours too”!  So yours truly gets the honor of being head puke remover.  What they fail to remember is that I gag and retch and almost vomit myself, yet somehow, I get the nasty job done anyhow. 

      And then there is the matter of the litter box.  The food Max eats and the food she digests and the food she doesn’t puke up, end up in the litter box.  Fortunately, I am not in charge of feeding her or cleaning up her litter box.  The girls are.  What bothers me about Max using the liter box is how she uses it.  She makes it to the box and everything she leaves is in the box.  Most cats dig a hole, do their thing and then cover it up.  Not Max.  She just squats, does her thing then, instead of actually covering up the movement, she paws at the air that reeks heavily of cat feces.  She paws at the wall where the smell seems to be the strongest and when the smell dissipates a little, she is  content to leave the box and her mess behind for someone else to cover up. 

     Max is now over ten years old in human years and has put on a little weight.  I too have put on a little weight over the last ten years although mine has not been due to eating bagged cat food!  Anyhow, Max has gone from lazy to lazier still.  She doesn’t romp through the house like she used to.  Usually, she likes her space and only seeks me out when I am the busiest.  She will come up to me, nudge and rub against my leg.  When I bend over to pet her, she walks a few feet away and waits.  I move up to pet het, maybe pet her once and she slinks away another few feet to where she stops again.  I stoop, I touch, she moves.  When we finally make it to the couch, she jumps up on it and waits on the back of it.  I reach to pet her and she lets me, leaning into my back rubs, ear tickling and chin scratching.  She seems to be enjoying this until out of nowhere, Max growls and takes a swipe at my hand.  The time she has made contact, I have come away with minor skin loss and major irritation.

     “Stupid cat”! I say.  She just looks at me like I had offended her last nerve.  She may have gotten her feelings hurt but I got my hand hurt.  Who got hurt worse?  I play a cat and mouse game with her and she gets mad when I play by her rules.

     My biggest fear is that if this is the first of nine lives, what do I have to look forward to in the next of her eight lives?


     Sometimes, we hubbies can be, how shall I say it? 

A little bit unsensitive maybe.  Insensitive.  Under sensitive. 

Especially  in such times as during pregnancy!            


     A certain part of the male human mind doesn’t always comprehend how gingerly a wife needs to be dealt with during this all important part of a marriage.  They need more of our concern and less of our lack of understanding.  More of what they want and need to hear and less of what they hear when we don’t think through what we say months in advance before we say it!

     Having been through six pregnancies myself and survived them, I feel I have some very important information to NOT pass along.  In other words, learn from my mistakes.  It will make your own nine months more survivable and you may live to become a father again!

  1. You have to go to the bathroom again?  You just went, didn’t you?

  2. Is that my bowling ball you are hiding under your dress?

  3. Hey, your underwear are a size bigger than mine!

  4. Say, you’re getting bigger all over!

  5. You’re crying just because I said your hormones are wacko?

  6. I suppose you think your being pregnant at home is worse than my going to work everyday.

  7. You’re not going to have morning sickness all nine months are you?

  8. You crave what?

  9. Of course you’re uncomfortable and can’t sleep but why should I have to suffer too?

  10. It’s three o’clock in the morning!  How come you didn’t crave this at some decent hour?

  11. Aren’t you afraid that all that chocolate is going to make you fatter?

  12. So, how long has it been since you last saw your feet?

  13. Are you sure when our wedding vows said, To have and to hold“, it wasn’t referring to your responsibilities with the children?

  14. You’re not going to cry again, are you?

  15. But you do waddle like a duck!

  16. You think you having a baby is worse than when I had my tonsils taken out?

  17. You want me to rent a truck so you can ride in the back?

  18.  You really can’t suck that gut in, can you?

  19. If you swallowed this cute little outfit, would the baby be born with clothes on?

  20. Do you have to make those annoying grunting sounds every time the baby kicks?

  21. You don’t think I could handle having a baby?

  22. What do you mean, you can’t fit behind the steering wheel anymore?

  23. It’s not over til the fat lady sings!

  24. You’re telling me that you sat down without help but now you need my help getting back up?

  25. Honey, have you seen my sign that says “Wide Load”?

  26. Okay, okay, you don’t look like a Sumo wrestler after all!

  27. I’ll quit saying, “Thar she blows” if you quit huffing and puffing every time you move.

  28. Maybe I should call a tow truck to help get you out of bed!

  29. It bothered you when I asked if you ever heard the song, “I feel the earth move under my feet”?

  30. At least if you fell in the lake, you would float, belly side up.

  31. I call it the “Belly Barrow”!  It’s my version of a wheel barrow for your belly!

  32. With the “Belly Barrow”, you can really push your weight around”!

  33. If you dyed your hair green and wore an orange shirt with a smiley face on it, you’d look just like a jack-o-lantern! 

  34. Of course you’re big but that just gives me that much more of you for me to love!

  35. Either I’m shrinking or you’re taking up a lot more of the couch than you used to!

  36. Please don’t sit on my lap right now…or for the next few months.

  37. When the baby is born, I think both of my arms may be broken so that I probably won’t be able to change the baby’s diapers.

  38. I watched you give birth to the last five kids and believe me, it’s not a pretty sight!

  39. When the baby is born, let’s send out double print pictures so everyone will think we had twins!

  40. Can’t we just tie a string to the baby’s foot, tie the other end to a door knob and slam the door to get the baby out?

  41. But newborn babies do look like raisins!

  42. But what if I really am allergic to baby puke?  What then?

  43. Could you move over please?  You’re blocking the light from the lamp!

  44. So, when I say, “Hey Hippy”, it hurts your feelings?

  45. You’ve got one maternity dress now.  How many maternity dresses do you need?

  46. The reason maternity clothes cost so much is because there is so much material!

  47. So, you’re saying that having a baby is not at all like spitting out a water melon seed?

  48. But I was just kidding when I told the photographer to get out the wide-angle lens! 

  49. But you do remind me of the Pillsbury Dough Boy!

  50. Well, sure, you are eating for two, but two whats?

  51. If this is all there is to having babies, how about a couple dozen!

  52. I still think that if we would have named the kids, “One, Two, Three, Four, Five and Six”, it would have been a lot easier than coming up with six different names.

  53. I think that after you give birth to the baby, I deserve a good long break, don’t you?

  54. You mean that even turning sideways, you still can’t get close enough to the sink to the dishes?

  55. Is that really a baby in there or are you just over-eating?

  56. I suppose you don’t think I would change places with you if I could…..for a few hours!

  57. If you’re retaining so much water, how come you can’t make a trek through the desert like a camel?

  58. I could see it if I had said that you looked like a zucchini but what’s wrong with saying you look like a pear?

  59. Were those pants always that tight on you?

  60. That floor board never creaked before!

  61. What a coincidence!  Now, you’re getting heart burn from your own cooking too!

  62. You’re six months pregnant, you’ve put on some weight and you’re asking me if your face looks fat!

  63. If walking hurts your feet so much, why don’t you just lay down and I’ll roll you where you want to go!

  64. Me?  Well, ya, I was humming “Deep And Wide”.  Why?

  65. Let me review this: I go to the video store, rent Free Willy, Dumbo and Moby Dick.  I bring them home.  You cry!

  66. Your mother didn’t laugh either when I told her you were on the level because your bubble is in the middle!

  67. Let’s see, you’ll be nine months in December.  Want to be Santa Clause this year?

  68. Don’t look at it as always spilling food down your front.  Look at it as an extra shelf to catch crumbs for later!

  69. What do you mean, “You can’t catch me now but just wait”!?

  70. Look at it this way.  If we go to the beach, no muscle-bound ape is going to kick sand in my face as long as you’re there!

  71. As much as I need to go, as badly as I want to leave, I just can’t seem to move.  You’re standing on my foot!

  72. Just because you crave something doesn’t mean the rest of the family craves the same thing!

  73. You remind me of a fast-food place.  Everything is super-sized!

  74. Maybe we better not cross that bridge.  It has a weight restriction posted.

  75. I’d love to let you sit on my lap but the feeling is just now returning to my legs from the last time you sat on it!

  76. Didn’t you used to have an “outie” belly button instead of an “inny”?

  77. I don’t want you to freak out but there’s a big hairy spider on your foot.  Just kidding!

  78. What do you mean, “Once you have the baby, you’ll need something other than maternity clothes to wear”?

  79. Isn’t being pregnant fun?

  80. Just pretend you’re looking into one of those trick mirrors at the carnival that makes everyone short, squatty and fat!

  81. Have you noticed that when you sit down, your whole lap disappears?

  82. I don’t suppose you have any idea what happens to all the left-overs that disappear from the fridge each night, do you?

  83. In the fable of The Tortoise And The Hare, do you suppose the husband is the hare and the pregnant wife is the tortoise?

  84. Some day, you’ll look back on all of this and cry all over again!

  85. You should feel lucky.  Some wild animals are pregnant for a year or more!

  86. Just think.  When you pack for the hospital, you can sit on and close your own suitcase!

  87. That’s not chocolate covered spaghetti that you’re eating, is it?

  88. You really get around, don’t you?  Get it?  Get a-round!

  89. If you ever fell out of an airplane, you could use your maternity dress for a parachute!

  90. That’s quite a spread you got there, Partner!

  91. Only 47 more days til “blast off”!

  92. Let me rephrase that: No man or woman is an island!

  93. You’re lucky you’re not a wiener dog.  Otherwise, your belly would be dragging on the floor!

  94. You aren’t thinking of becoming a belly dancer, are you?

  95. Pop goes the weasel!  I mean, Pop goes the…toaster?  Pop goes the…. Poptart? 

  96. How’s my little Hunch Belly of Notre Dame doing today?

  97. If it’s twins, are you going to be pregnant for 18 months?

  98. Potholes never bothered you before you were pregnant!

  99. I just saw your “bowl of jelly” move all by itself!

  100. If you keep huffing and puffing, you’ll blow the house down!

  101. You are talking about fixing the dog, aren’t you?  Aren’t you?

     Actually, I probably didn’t use any of these (at least not out loud) so no need for anyone to want to ban me from the earth for actually being a thoughtless father.  I value my life, my wife’s feelings and the awesome privilege of being a father, especially six times over! 

Thank you my beloved wife,

Carrie Dawn.

     I have been told that a woman having a baby compares to a man having kidney stones.  My wife has had six babies, I have had two major bouts with kidney stones.  She said I owe her four more kidney stones to catch up to her.  I told her, “If you want more kidney stones, we’ll adopt the last four! 


These are some more of my sketches. 
Every now and then, I’ll post the same sketch with different captions. 

I don't know what happened. All I remember is I ate some loco weed, things got blurry and when I woke up, this is how I looked!



Stop saying, “It’s not over until the fat lady sings”. You know I can’t sing!

I'm serious. I didn't do this!


I've stewed over this all day and all you can say is that there is a hare or two in it?


I thought you said you had a "coin" collection, not a CON collection!


Crash Test Mummies!


Weez gots ways of making you talk, Head!


When Animal Crackers Go Bad!



Just some characters I ran across here in Oregon.

Mr. Scowly



 Mr. “I don’t need a pole when I go fishing”!

 Clown Boy

Mr. “I did my own first aid”.

Sister “White Out ain’t just for typing anymore”!



One cool dude!


It’s electrifying!

The Good

The Bad

The Ugly

“Go ahead, push him.  I dare you”!

Mr. Gray was a big man around town!

Bud, the cowboy in a ten gallon hat.

“…..You do the Hokey Pokey and you……..”

Will O. Woods


(I don’t know if this was real or not.)

“All this waiting is just killing me! 

The Cast Away

“You ain’t nothing but a hound dog”!

Mr. Parks

“Rain, rain, go away”!

“It’s a straw, I tell you”!

“You fetch”!

“They always said, ‘Stop while you’re a head'”!


“Can you see?”  “Just bearly”!

(Just a piece of parking lot tar.)

And the first runner up is……..

And we’re jogging.



A young female checker was working the express lane at a local store, when an older- no, when a ‘mature’ gentleman began to unload his cart of groceries. It was obvious to the girl that he had not paid attention to the sign which said, ” 9 Items Or Less”. Rather coldly, the checker sneered, “Dude! You have way too many groceries, like over 21! Do you know what “over 21″ means, Dude“?

     Still placing his groceries on the counter, the man responded: “Of course I know what “over 21” means. Let me tell you.”

“It takes over 21 minutes each morning when I wake up, just to find my pulse, to see if I am still alive or not.”

“Then I wash down over 21 different medications with over 21 ounces of liquid my doctor has told me I have to drink.”

“I have had over 21 operations or surgeries and have several scars over 21 inches long.”

“I have misplaced or lost over 21 pairs of glasses and when I do have a pair, I have to hold the paper over 21 inches away. Even then, it needs to be in over 21 font size, just so I can read it.”

“I have over 21 teeth in my mouth which are not my original teeth.”

“I have a little over 21 hairs per square inch on my balding head.”

“Sometimes, I have to be called over 21 times before I answer because I don’t hear so well anymore.”

“Every year, I replace over 21 batteries in my hearing aids.”

“When I listen to the radio, I have to turn the volume up to over 21 because of my hearing aids.”

“I have fought in over 21 battles for my country and have seen over 21 of my buddies lost in those battles.”

“I have gained over 21 pounds in the last few years which has caused me to put in over 21 holes in my belt.”

“Yes, I’d say I know a little something about what ’over 21’ means! Now, I’m going to ask you something”.

“If I out-live my third wife, the one to whom I have been married to for over 21 years- if I decide I want to get remarried, are you over 21, Dudette”!?

The checker’s only reply was; “Clean up on express lane”!