Friday, June 29, 2018

Not So Viva La Difference

The Difference Between Men And Women

 Woman: "I have a headache."
Man: "You wanna get frisky?"
Woman: "No! I've Already Told You:  I HAVE A HEADACHE!"
Man: "I have a headache. Plus, I’ve dislocated my shoulder and was shot in the leg as I fell off a ladder. Luckily, my hip broke the fall. Unluckily, the fall broke my hip. And, as I was laying there, our neighbor's dog bit me in the..."
Woman: "You wanna get frisky?"
Man: "YOU BET!"
American Chimpanzee

Monday, June 25, 2018

The Week In Tweets: Special Summit Tweets!

The only problem with setting a good example is no one follows a good example.
Fake News Wonders: Can a president pardon himself?
"I don't need to apologize to Monica Lewinski."--Former President Clinton
I guess they can.
This Just In!
To Celebrate The Historic President Trump / Kim Jong-un Summit--TODAY ONLY!--All Korean Massages... FREE!
This Just In!
The Historic President Trump / Kin Jong-un Summit... A SUCCESS!
"But what about Russia?" wails Fake News.
This Just In!
As part of the historic agreement between President Trump and Kim Jong-un, the portly dictator promised North Koreans will no longer eat dogs.
"We've already eaten them all," he admits, chuckling.
This Just In!
A new report by the University of California at Berkeley blames "hard to defend" conservative speech for inciting left-wing students to violence, and, further, conservative rape victims who dress provocatively "are just asking for it!"
I've never seen the former President Clinton so upset.
The Miss America Pageant just cancelled its swimsuit competition.
My favorite vegetable is steak.
This Just In!
Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau Tells President Trump: Canada WILL NOT Be "Pushed Around."
"Only the very old and very frail Queen Elizabeth can do that," he lisped.
I write my goals down and then celebrate when I achieve them. For example:
1) Become fat.
2) Stay lazy.
Scientists have determined that trying new things is the key to longevity.
Bless you, Baskin Robbins!
This Just In!
Rapper XXXTention Shot And Killed In Florida!
Yeah, I've never heard of him either.
This Just In!
Separation Policy Has GOP Starting To Panic About 2018!
Wait a minute... liberals WON'T vote for you, and illegal immigrants CAN'T vote for you, so just where are you losing votes?
"Oh, yeah. Silly us."
This Just In!
Ted Cruz BREAKS With President Trump With Bill To End Separation Policy!
"It's the deal I made with Jimmy Kimmel to throw the basketball game."
This Just In!
Experts Reveal Kilauea Lava Is Now HOTTER And More FLUID!
Hot and liquidy... isn't that what lava is, Mr. Expert?
This Just In!
A CUSTODIAN Brought Down The House At A Graduation With His Emotional Performance Of The National Anthem!
"The toilet's backed up," the liberals and Democrats in the audience told him when he was done.
This Just In!
Wendy's Employee Films Mouse Among the Hamburger Buns!
"Why am I suddenly out of a job?" employee wonders as Wendy's goes out of business.
Robert De Niro at the Tony Awards: "Fuck Trump!"
See what actors come up with on their own when they don't have writers writing for them?
This just In!
Former President Obama Signs Deal To Produce Show For Netflix!
"It's a sweet deal. I do nothing, and they PAY me!"
At the library, one of the librarians told me I look just like her late husband.
I wonder if she meant now, or back when he was still alive.
This Just In!
Senator Kamala Harris NOT Ruling Out A 2020 White House Run!
No, it's the rest of America that's ruling it out.
American Chimpanzee

Saturday, June 16, 2018

The Prisoner in

I'd Rather Have A Bottle In Front Of Me
Than A Frontal Lobotomy
Where do secret agents go when they resign?
     I found out the hard way when I angrily resigned from my agency over a matter of principle without first making arrangements to disappear myself. In my flat--while I was hurriedly packing--I was gassed unconscious and woke up in a beautiful village, with an ocean in front of me and mountains blocking my rear flank. In other word, no direction to escape.
     “You are Number Six,” I was told.
     "Number what?"
     "Six. For official purposes. Everyone has a number. Yours is Number Six."
     “I am not a number, I am a free man! I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed, or NUMBERED!”
     “That's all well and good, Number Six, but we give people here in The Village a number because it's easier than remembering names. In YOUR case, we don’t even know your name at all. Hence, Number Six. Watt is MY name.”
    “I don’t know.”
     “No, I’m telling you... Watt is my name.”
     “And I’m telling YOU... I don't know! Is there someone else I can speak to?”
     "As far as you're concerned, I'm in charge. What can I do for you?"
     "You can tell me the person you answer to."
     "That would be Number One."
     "Number One?"
     "Number One."
     "And who is Number one?'
     "My, aren't you a clever one. That's right, Who is Number One."
     "That is what I want to know."
     "And that is what you so cleverly figured out."
     I paused.
     "Are you Number Two?"
     "And you say you're in charge?"
     "Six of one, a half dozen of another."
     "Then you know Number One’s name?"
     "Of course I do."
     "Tell me, then, who's Number One?"
     "I mean, Number One’s name."
     "Number One."
     "Your immediate superior."
     "Your boss..."
     "Who is my boss."
     "I don't know. That's why I'm asking you who's your boss."
     "Well, that’s his name."
     "That's who's name?"
     "Well, go ahead and tell me."
     "Tell you what?"
     "Who’s name."
     "That's right."
     I paused again to consider, and then took another direction in order to outsmart him.
     "You’re Number Two?" I repeated.
     "And you are in charge?"
     "That is correct."
     "Then you should be privy to the payroll."
     "Of course I am."
     "When Number One gets paid, who gets the money?"
     "Every penny of it."
     "I said, who gets the money?"
     "He does, every penny. Although, sometimes his wife comes down and collects it."
     I saw my chance, and quickly seized upon it.
     "Who's wife?" I asked.
     "Yes," he said.
     "Let me put it this way, when she asks for her husband’s paycheck, she says it’s for who?"
     "What's wrong with that?"
     "So whose wife gets it?"
     "Yes, she does."
     "And when she gets home, she gives it to who?"
     "That is correct."
     "Her husband who?"
     Number Two laughed.
     "How many husbands do you think she has?" he quipped, and I ignored.
     "When Number One goes to the bank to make his deposit, he has to sign the back of his paycheck, correct?"
     "So how does he sign his name?"
     "Your Boss."
     "I asked you first, how does he sign his name?"
     "That's how he signs it."
     Number Two was more clever than I at first thought. Instead of breaking him down, he was breaking me down.
     "All I want to know is what is Number One’s name," I lamented.
     "Watt is MY name.
     "I'm not asking who's Number Two."
     "Who's Number One."
     "Well, then, don't start mixing us up."
     "I'm not mixing ANYBODY up! Except MYSELF!"
     "Calm down, Number Six."
     "I AM calm! This is how I ACT when I’m CALM! Let me ask you again, who is Number One?"
     "That's right."
     "Fine, then."
     "Fine, indeed."
     Perhaps I was being too clever for my own good. I decided to take the direct approach.
     “You are Number Two.”
     "And what is Number One’s name?"
     "Watt is my name."
     "I'm not asking who’s Number Two..."
     "Who's Number One."
     "...I’m asking what is Number One’s name."
     "Watt is MY name, but we're not talking about me."
     "Who’s talking about you?"
     “He is?”
     “Who is?”
     "So you're confirming it?"
     "I am?"
     "Thank you.”
     "You're welcome," I said, and waited for him to continue.
     “Well," he said, finally, "what did he say?"
     "Who else?"
     "About what?"
     "Of course about Watt, and why am I speaking in the third person?"
     "I don't know," I admitted, my psyche crumbling. "I don't even know what I'm talking about any more."
     "Well, then, perhaps we can start with this: what is your name?"
     My eyes pierced into his, as I cocked my head at an odd angle and considered whether I should give him even that basic piece of information. Finally, I made my decision. 
     “Why," I told him.
     Number Two was visibly taken aback.
     “Because...” he hesitated, suddenly unsure of himself, “I... want... to... know?”
     “Enough of this nonsense!” thundered a voice from the room's epicenter.
     With that, Number Two crumpled to the floor like a marionette with its strings suddenly cut.
     There was a blue Police Box in the heart of what I had considered to be Number Two's office. Its doors were open. Why hadn't I seen it before this? Deep in the darkness of its interior stood a presence, more than a person. I couldn’t tell whether the form was young or old, male or female. The silhouette indicated to me that this human shadow was interestingly dressed.
     Interestingly dressed, indeed.
     As the figure walked forward out of the shadows, it seemed to change identities with each step. 
     That is, until it stepped into the light.
     “Hello, Number Six. I am Number One.”
     “Who?” I said, stammering in disbelief at finally meeting my true nemesis.
     “Exactly,” the figure said, “but you can call me The Doctor.”
American Chimpanzee

Friday, June 15, 2018

Dear John: Special "No One Cares" Edition!

Hard Core Advice
From Hard Core’s Hardest Core...
John Leslie!
Dear John,
    Due to some unfortunate family circumstances, I was devastated to discover that nearly all of my boxes of cherished recipes have been destroyed. I’m now starting over from scratch—no pun intended—to replace these special recipes so I can pass them down to my children, but not my children’s children, because I don’t think children should be having sex.
    Most of my family members have died, so they can no longer be a resource for the traditional dishes I grew up with.
    What can I do?
Dear Devastated,
No one cares about your stupid recipes.
Dear John,
    My friends have blessed me with several nights free at an expensive beach resort, all expenses paid.
    The problem is my friends inconsiderately got me a room with NO VIEW! It faces the GOLF COURSE, rather than the ocean, as I would like. This is going to spoil my entire vacation, and I’ve been told that no other rooms are available.
    What should I do?
    —Graciously Disappointed
Dear Gracious,
You should give the room to someone who would appreciate it.
Like me.
Dear John,
     I'm average fitness-wise. My girlfriend has belonged to a gym for a year. Out two fitness paths collided when I was enjoying a cup of coffee with her and her training partner, Rosie O'Donnell.
     Rosie made a muscle. When I complimented her on her impressive upper lip definition, she responded that I should see my girlfriend's "guns." When my girlfriend flexed, her bicep popped up so high one of them slapped me on the side of the head. Rosie then started to bully me into flexing as well. I didn't want to because I knew my muscle wasn't as developed, but I did anyway. Rosie felt both our arms, and declared mine softer. She then pushed us to arm wrestle. Being a man, I thought I would win, but I was beaten... badly. It didn't help that my nose started to bleed from the exertion. I felt embarrassed and less than a man.
     The upshot to this story is, I feel there has been a power shift in our relationship. My girlfriend will now jerk aggressively towards me when she wants me to do something, making me flinch. She also enjoys smacking me upside the head in public. A "love slap," she calls it. When my parents wanted to know why I had two black eyes, she laughingly told them, "Because he didn't listen the first time!" That's not true. I listened the first time. She just chose to hit me a second time for no reason.
     Must I just accept her superior strength, or should I go to the gym and work out like she does?
Dear Outmuscled,
A wise person would refer to his or her physician before starting an exercise program. Only when they get the okay, should they go to a gym and begin to work-out. The wiser among them would even employ a trainer to help them achieve their goals.  A good trainer can teach them proper form and use of the weights and equipment, thus building themselves up, rather than tearing themselves down. And, when they feel they're strong enough...
...they can punch their girlfriend in the face.
Confidential to Cuckold:
While I agree it's not right that your wife feels the desire to sleep with her employers, I can't help but wonder if she's ever considered working for an advice columnist. 
American Chimpanzee

Sunday, June 10, 2018

The Week In Tweets: Special Chelsea Clinton Edition!

This Just In!
The Very Elderly George Bush!
For Low Blood Pressure & Fatigue!
"Give it to me straight, doc," the former 41st president wanted to know. "Am I sick?"
"You're just old."
This Just In!
Chelsea Clinton: President Trump degrades "what it means to be an American."
Her opinions would mean more if the only job she's ever held wasn't just being a Clinton.
This Just In!
In an interview with British Fake News, Chelsea Clinton said the Trump Administration is laden with "cruelty and incompetence and corruption" and other words that begin with C.
"Wait a minute," she corrected, "that was my FATHER'S administration."
This Just In!
According to British Fake News, Chelsea Clinton ORDERS the British people to "show up to protest" President Trump's July visit to England because "as a Clinton, it's my job to sow hatred and discord as a way for my mom and dad to steal money."
This Just In!
In her most recent doctor visit, Chelsea Clinton was told that her deep hatred of President Trump is causing her blood pressure to skyrocket.
"I'd like a second opinion," she snottily insisted.
"Okay," the doctor agreed. "You're also pretty ugly."
As a Democrat, I believe in Income Equality.
That's why Nancy Pelosi should give me half her fortune.
Today is National Donut Day!
Isn't EVERY day National Donut Day?
I'm a survivalist.
I don't mind living off the land.
As long as I can order Domino's.
This Just In!
Ex-President Clinton Is DISGUSTED That President Trump PARDONED Alice Marie Johnson!
"I would have charged Kim Kardashian $250,000 for THAT."
Every time a celebrity dies, an angel gets its wings. 

American Chimpanzee

Friday, June 8, 2018

Dear John: Special Who Cares? Edition!

Hard Core Advice
From Hard Core’s Hardest Core...
John Leslie!
Dear John,
     My daughter is still in high school, but she’s dating a man who’s 26-years-old! He has three children with another girl but refuses to marry her or pay child support.
     When my daughter goes out with him, he keeps her out until 3:30! Or later.
     Sometimes even all night long. He does this ALL THE TIME! Even though he assures me before they leave that he’ll have her back at a reasonable hour. She must like him because he’s funny. I always hear them laughing all the way to his van.
     I’m beginning to think he’s a liar and isn’t any good for her. Should I forbid her from seeing him or let her make her OWN decisions?
     We are NOT going to raise a baby out of wedlock!
Dear Concerned,
That’s what YOU think!
Dear John,
      I have a great marriage to a wonderful woman. We have amazing kids and are really happy together. You wouldn’t believe how happy we are. Sooo happy. Yes, we are.
      The issue, however, is my in-laws. We are complete opposites in temperament and views. I know they have a right to their own opinions, and I respect that, but they belittle me, my politics, my faith, my job, my habits, my hobbies... you name it. I have been with my wife since high school and they have never liked me.
      “Here comes ol’ stinky,” one of them will invariably say when my wife and I come over to visit.
      “I’d like a second opinion on that,” the other will play along.
      “Okay. Not only does he stink, but he’s ugly,” too.”
      I am educated, have a good job, and take care of my family, but every chance my in-laws get, they trash me in front of my wife and kids. They are beyond cruel. I especially hate how they get my loving wife and darling children to chant along with them, “Inky-dinky! Daddy’s stinky!”
      My wife doesn’t see a problem.
      I tried to stick up for myself one time and my father-in-law proceeded to threaten me with physical violence.
     “Get over it,” my wife told me. “That’s how he shows he likes you.”
     “Well, I never!” I said.
     “And that’s why you’re a brunette, I’m a brunette, and our children are redheads. Besides,” she continued, “they’re old. They deserve respect.”
     Well, don’t I deserve respect as well? I’m afraid my children will start to mimic their abusive behavior, but I take it because they’re family.
     I am at my breaking point, and my marriage is beginning to suffer because my wife refuses to support me.
      “Don’t be a wuss,” she’ll say, and then make clucking sounds like a chicken.
     My wife insists we visit them at least once a week. When I tell her I don’t want to go, she tells me to shut up, and makes me go anyway.
     I don’t know what to do anymore.
     —Please Help
Dear Please,
I thought you said you had a great marriage to a wonderful woman?
Dear John,
     Maybe I’m wrong to feel this way.
     My mother died a month ago. My sister notified me in a mass email to friends and family. “To whom it may concern,” it began.
     I almost fainted when I read it. I can’t believe she feels that this was an acceptable way to break the sad news to me, her brother.
     At the funeral, my sister had the pastor read what she wrote about our mother, and never acknowledged me or the fact that she even had a brother. Nor did she ask if there was something I wanted to say or have read. Not only that, but those very same friends and family members bypassed me to give their condolences to her.
     What is going on here? I honestly don’t know what I’ve done that they would shun me this way.
      I feel like I’m the...
      —Invisible Man
My apologies to my reading public.
The second letter ran so long I wasn’t able to fit in a third.
Confidential to Wondering:
The reason women fake orgasms is because they think we care.
American Chimpanzee

Sunday, June 3, 2018

Towelie Says: DON'T DROWN!

Well, it's the swimming time of the year, and you know what that means, don't you?
     Yes, it means young girls in skimpy bathing suits.
     "If you don't want me to look, then why do you dress that way?" is what I like to say.
     Something else I like to say is, "Take it from me, kids: Drowning Is NO Fun," and it's even less fun when you capitalize it like that.
     I put drowning just ahead of stubbing your toe, but just behind getting a bad hair cut.
     Did you know that drowning is a top-cause of injury related death for people who want to impress the opposite sex by pretending they know how to swim?
     It's true.
     With that in mind, let me give you ten tips for swimming safety... but first, maybe I'll get a little high:
10) During family swim time, assign a constant, capable adult supervisor.
Can't find one?
Yeah, I didn't think you would.
9) Keep your pool fence locked when it's not time to swim.
A broken leg from climbing over that locked fence is an obstacle that will keep most kids from jumping unsupervised into the pool.
There's nothing you can do about the stupid ones.
8) Keep windows and doors leading to pool area locked.
What do you mean I already covered this in #2?
Oh man, I am so high right now, I have no idea what's going on.
8) Make sure children can't go over, under, or through the fence.
And, when you do, be sure to let President Trump know how you did it.
3) You shouldn't get high to learn how to swim.
You should learn how to swim, and then get high to reward yourself.
2) Teach children how to swim at an appropriate age.
What is an appropriate age?
I say it's around the time they can pay for the lessons themselves.
1) Keep your CPR skills up to date.
Number one on my list of CPR skills is:
"If you're a dude, you're out of luck."
Remember, Kids:
Respect The Water... Don't Pee In The Pool!

American Chimpanzee

Friday, June 1, 2018

Never Fight An Angry Monkey

My dad was pretty tough in his youth.
     These days, I could probably take him in a fair fight, but the fear he instilled in me as a young boy has me trembling at the thought of a fight with him, fair or otherwise.
    Back when I was still in single digits, I came home crying because my best friend’s father had booted me in the can. “Get the Hell out of my house!” he yelled. I had broken something. I don’t remember what, but he must have been pretty fond of it.
    When my father, who was in the street changing his car’s oil, saw me crying, he immediately wanted to know who did it.
    “Mr. Sanchez,” I sniffed.
    My father dropped his tools. They hit the pavement with an angry clank. He grabbed me by the arm and pulled me along to our neighbor’s house, banging on the door when he got there.
    Mr. Sanchez opened it, and stood there with a tough guy smirk on his face. He had a revolver stuck in the waistband of his pants. The implication was apparent. You’ve got to remember, this was a different time. A time when people took care of their own problems. There was no scurrying off and calling the police.
    “QuĂ©, buey?” Mr. Sanchez said, lifting his chin defiantly. What, ox?
    Trust me, it sounds worse in Spanish.
    My father fought in the Philippines during World War Two. It wasn’t the first time he faced a man with a gun. In a move even Rambo would envy, my father grabbed the gun, cracked Mr. Sanchez against the skull with it, and stuffed it back into his waistband before he had a chance to start falling. When he did fall, he crumpled to the ground hard.
    I thought it was over with, but I got it, too, when we got home.
    “I don’t know what you did,” my father told me between whacks, “but I know you did something.”
    My father once told me about a fight he got into at a bar. The bartender told them to take it outside. They obliged, both of them wanting to continue drinking after it was over. My father was the first one out the door. When the other man was one foot across the threshold, my father slammed the heavy door against him. It knocked the poor guy back several feet. He never got back up. When the bar closed, they moved him to the sidewalk out front and left him there to spend the night.
    I write all that because my father and I were watching Blazing Saddles the other day. When he saw Mongo, played by Alex Karras, knock out a horse with one punch, he said, “I could do that.”
    I looked up from fussing with my laptop. It’s about ten years old, and on its last legs. I’d buy another, maybe even a MacBook Pro since I’ve never owned an Apple, but that takes money, and these days my money goes to fixing the things my father breaks.
    But I digress...
    “Do what, pop?” I asked him.
    “Knock out a horse.”
    “Is that right?” I said.
    My father shrugged.
    I thought about that. Then purposely picked the toughest animal I could think of, “What about a rhinoceros?”
    “Rhinos,” he said, “are the bullies of the animal world. Stand up to one, and he’ll back down. With that big horn up front, it makes them look tougher than they are. It’s intimidating, but that’s about it. The horn protects his face, so that makes a rhino overconfident. Just grab that horn to steady yourself. He’ll grunt, because that’s the way rhinos laugh, but he won’t be laughing when you give him a roundhouse to his temple. That’s his weak spot. He’ll go down quick.”
    That was more words in just a few seconds than my father had spoken to me my entire life. I wasn’t sure if he was serious, or, like Mel Brooks, was just having fun with me at the expense of the animal kingdom, but I played along.
    “How about a dolphin?”
    “Cover Flipper’s blowhole. When he starts to panic because he can’t breathe, an uppercut to his jaw will do the trick,” he told me. “Dolphins have a glass jaw.”
     "What about a manatee?"
     "Now you're just making things up."
     "No, really. They're also known as a sea cow."
     Even though it's true, that sounded phoney-baloney even to me, so I said something else.
    “Well, have you ever punched a cow?”
    “Who do I look like? Rocky?" he wanted to know. “I don't know about manatees, but seals, seals are tough. It’s like fighting a beach ball smeared with Vaseline, but stomp on his flipper and he's all yours.”
    “Giraffes could be a problem."
    “A karate chop to their windpipe will take them out,” he said, karate chopping the air in front of him with one muppet-like arm. “You just have to get out of the way when they fall.”
    “I heard a Komodo dragon bit off Sharon Stone’s husband’s foot.”
    “The actress?”
    “Yeah, remember her from Casino?”
    “No, I remember her from Basic Instinct. I don’t know why her husband was fighting a giant lizard, but one thing he should have known is anything with a tail is easy to beat. Grab the tail, lift it high, and whatever it is will just hang there looking ridiculous.”
    With my father’s tall tales, I felt like a kid again. He did, too, I bet.
    “What about a chimpanzee?”
    My father looked at me.
    “You don’t ever want to fight a chimpanzee, son. They have that monkey strength going for them, and the angrier they get, the stronger they get. They don’t fight fair, either. They’ll bite off your nose, tear off your face, anything to win the fight.” With that, he paused, and then said, “You leave those monkeys alone.”
    Good advice, I guess.
The advice is always good at,, and @JimDuchene.