The HumorSmith Chronicle

Devil May Care

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 08:40:00 +0000

I don't know what possessed me to marry her.

Just what the world needs is more guys in dresses. Or did I misunderstand the manager when he said we should all be cross-trained? Figures...I'm frocked again.

See? I knew I should've had a script tonight. This is the danger of free thinking. I wish I could claim to have a hidden agenda, but sadly, my agenda is right out there for all to see. Perhaps agenda reassignment surgery is necessary?

Not that the HumorSmith has ever been confused. Nope, ask me sometime and I will show you the picture of me trying to kiss the neighbor girl when I was 6. She was too, by the way; nobody's that precocious. I was always fully cocious from the start, no easing into it.

True, the urge to be a humor writer wasn't there from the beginning; there was that period after I discovered the joys of self-touching where most other things got ignored for, oh, 50 years or so.

But humor writing was right there behind the sex thing. Then there was the horrific wailing, the severed limbs, the flying furniture and shattered drywall, but a divorce took care of all that. I was going to call an exorcist, but do you have any idea how much those guys charge? Not to mention the difficulty of getting holy water stains out of the sheets. What? You didn't know that stuff stains? It does. What would you expect from something that burns the skin?

Does anybody have Regan MacNeil's number? Now that I'm fully cross-trained, I figure I should put it to good use.

Deus succurro mihi

He Who Laughs

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 09 Mar 2010 16:55:00 +0000

Some of the humor impaired searching for me at my last address

Does laughing inside my head count? I often wonder if you are amused at the Chronicle as I am most days. I guess the fact you keep dropping by is enough. Of course, on the off chance some of you are angry malcontents who take huge offense at my ramblings and puns, well, you should know the city listed on my profile is nowhere near my actual location.

That's right, due to the criminally funny nature of my posts, I have been taken into BOOB: blogger official obfuscation bureau. There used to be two such programs for protecting the hapless bloggers trying to bring a smile who ended up being persecuted by the humor challenged, but the feds decided they didn't need a pair of BOOBs, so they cut it down to one.

I move every year, and occasionally the bureau puts me in a place without internet service, but I'm sure that's just an honest mistake on their part. Rest assured, I and many others nothing like me, (for each humor blogger is unique and special), are well taken care of at the taxpayer's expense. Erm, never mind that last part. I mean, the bureau provides a healthy stipend.

So, next time you see a boob, you'll think of me, and grin to yourself knowing I am safe and will always be here, or somewhere, reaching into my crowded mind to bring you a chortle.

It's Fine, Except For The Splinters

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 07 Mar 2010 09:00:00 +0000

Someone who can produce this much wood should never be lonely.

Celibacy is overrated. Also in my case, unwelcome. It is not by choice. I truly can't believe my utterly stunning self has been alone for 4 years. WTF?? Or, WT no F. At all. I fear my libido has atrophied, and that all would be well if I could snare a trophie wife or girlfriend. Or a woman with a pulse.

Even someone who regularly faked orgasms would be welcome. I have been faking them for the past 4 years, but I find I am getting more inclined to believe my moans as time goes on. Unfortunately they have a strict no release policy at work, so I don't get to practice as often as I might wish, and my hand is losing interest.

If the rule that what you don't use you lose is true, I am about 5 weeks away from becoming a eunuch. As if my no nookie status isn't bad enough, I am increasingly susceptible to inappropriate physical responses. I got an erection watching The Golden Girls last night. Now I'm afraid to watch Animal Planet.

I have been trying to channel my sex drive into other areas. Last week,I whittled a Metro commuter bus, passengers and a driver. The neighbors noticed the lifelike figures, and came over to tell me their firewood had mysteriously disappeared. Then they asked me where I got so much wood. I said I watch a lot of TV. They stared at me without blinking for several minutes, then quickly backed off my porch and went home.

Wi Bother

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Thu, 04 Mar 2010 08:55:00 +0000

WiFi? Wi not? I can remember when hi-fi was a big thing. Those of you in the back saying, "Hi-fi? What the hell's that?"can go home now. Technology marches on, with or without us. While I'm not a technophobe, I do wonder if just because we can do something, it's a good idea. I can remember when we used to go to coffee shops to *gasp* talk to each other rather than surf the web.

Hell, I can remember when we used to surf the Jack Webb, and they had to put out a dragnet for him. I know, back of the room people. Old TV show; guy used to be married to Julie London. J-U-L-I-E L-.....oh, forget it.

Why don't you clowns go home and Google this stuff?

Honestly, if I have to explain everything to you, we'll never get out of here.

I recall a time, (yeah, I am reminiscing...okay with you?) when folks got disappointed because there were no empty tables at the coffee shop. Now they pitch a bitch if there are no available outlets for their laptops. Why do we feel compelled to take our stuff with us wherever we go? I thought the point of getting out of the house was to get away from everything that demanded your attention at home and relax, carefree and peaceful with the knowledge that you and your significant other could spend some quality time together.

Why...oh, sorry. That's my cell phone. BRB.

Chalk It Up To Experience

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 03 Mar 2010 17:07:00 +0000

Damn you, Andy Warhol!

It's no longer imperative to make a living in the classic sense of the term. I have had the same job for the last 35 years and I am done. I have changed cages repeatedly, but the result has been the same. Bleah! I am finally going to do exactly what I was put here to do. Chalk sidewalk drawings. That's it. What better thing could there be for me to do than paint pretty pictures and watch them disappear immediately in the Seattle rain?

Okay, so I can't draw, and I don't have a great visual imagination. So what? Lots of famous people have no talent. That's what makes this such a great country. I am every bit as talentless as Paris Hilton, and the only reason everyone hasn't heard of me is because I have the good taste to keep my untalented ass a secret.

Well, no more. I am going to claim my fifteen minutes and several other unsuspecting people's as well. Hah! I knew my uncanny ability to use a stopwatch would come in handy. I will know to the second when my fifteen minutes are up, and I will make sure I have more on standby at the crucial instant.

Chalk it up to clear thinking. And some blank sidewalks.

Hidden Truths

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 28 Feb 2010 19:13:00 +0000

"Hey, I wonder if I can sneak up on that guy and take his camera?"

Are the Olympics still on? Not having cable, I am generally pretty much unaware.

In any event, I'm sure some medals were given, and there were some losers.

Speaking of losers....

I'm not sure where the white guy in the camo jacket and wearing the dreadlocks came from, but he seems to have adopted my music department as a homeless away from homeless. He is harmless, and except for the long conversations he carries on with the cd covers, I am not too worried. I consider him a bag lady without the bags or the vagina. So, you know, pretty similar. And also, dude, despite the camo, I can sill see you.

That's one fashion trend I have never quite understood. Is the person proudly proclaiming he shops in a military surplus store? In the jungle or the forest, camouflage is useful. In the city, less so. If the object is to blend in and perhaps carry out a surprise attack, I don't think that's an option. As far as taking advantage of natural cover, that's why there are telephone poles and streetlights. Apply judiciously, wear baggy ass denim shorts twelve sizes too large, a t-shirt, a baseball cap backward, and Nikes and there is little chance you'll be detected by your prey. I once would have thought there was little chance of you getting laid, but I'm no longer so sure about that.

Let's face it, in the city there is little chance you'll even be noticed by pedestrians. The goal is to avoid eye contact, and we're fairly successful at that. Now, if you guys can just stop talking to the invisible, the whole world will become your toy.

Zen! Zen! Zen! Went The Dalai

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Fri, 26 Feb 2010 08:21:00 +0000

I'm trying a Zen approach to my comedy. It's being funny without being funny.

Many of you will say I have been doing that for two years, and to you I say, these two Buddhists walked into a juice bar. The bartender said, "Ya know, we don't get many Buddhists in here", and one of the Zen masters said, "It is always wise to be where one is. I would like a raspberry, please." So the bartender went, "Pffhhffhhhht!"

See? I can be funny in any philosophy. If you're curious, shortly after that encounter, the two Zen masters ran off and joined a Buddhist colony where they practice the art of being naked without being naked. Next time, I'll talk about having sex without having sex, something I am sadly quite good at.

To the many of you who have written in asking how it is if I believe I can create whatever I desire and focus my attention on I don't create a funnier blog, you should be aware I have been focusing a lot of attention on you lately.

You should start to feel kind of funny any day now.

Doobie Or Not Doobie

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 24 Feb 2010 08:46:00 +0000

"Act like you can sing, Clyde."

Maybe I'll be a pirate. Or not.

Is it wrong to be over 40 and still not know what you wanna be when you grow up? I'm not even real certain I want to grow up. Too much responsibility. Life is a game and I really like to play.

As Shakespeare said, "All the world's a Monopoly board, and all the people only playas."

Well, he would've said it.

If he hadn't died like 500 years ago. And if he'd lived in LA.

Then again, maybe he did. How else do you explain the film Romeo + Juliet?

On that note, have you heard Leo may possibly be signed up to play Sinatra? If this happens, it'll be Scorsese's fault. Apparently the Caprio is taking singing lessons and everything. Maybe he's even drinking a bottle of Jack Daniel's a day. Who thinks this is a good idea? Not the JD part, the Leo as Frankie part.

Acting maybe, but singing? Just because Kevin Spacey pulled a pretty good job as Bobby Darin doesn't mean every actor should flex his tonsils in a singer biopic.

Sinatra, fa crissake. Is nothing sacred? Why, they might come up with all sorts of lies to smear Ol' Blue Eyes. Oh wait. Oliver Stone isn't making this pic.

Comes down to it, Frank did enough to smear himself, so no embellishment will be necessary. Probably. Maybe they'll concentrate on the good things he did. I could add something about monkeys and my nether regions here, but after yesterday's lemur poo, I think not.

The singing, though? Wow....nobody can touch him. And Leo shouldn't. Why not have Buble dub the vocals? Are ya listening Marty??

Hold It!

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 23 Feb 2010 08:39:00 +0000

"Feces? We don't got no stinking feces."

Ecoterrorist? What the hell's that? Aren't they supposed to be green and earth-friendly and all? Than why the radical acts like training lemurs to fling poo at unsuspecting citizens slyly putting their recyclables into the garbage bin and vice versa? By the way, lemur poo is particularly nasty stuff. Not even other lemurs like the odor. Maybe that's why it's so easy to talk them into throwing it.

Somehow these gonzo greenies graduated from hugging plant life to bombing laboratories suspected of conducting animal experiments and standing on street corners shaking their fists in impotent fury at passing buses.

Okay, so some are more radical than others, but still. I dislike shaking fists, whether aimed at me or not. Anyway what have buses done besides spew noxious fumes and run on schedules that have nothing to do with the posted timetables? Perhaps that's just me. Not that I mind getting to work an hour late and reeking of an odd mixture of Washington state air and carbon monoxide with a slight tang of unleaded.

I think there should be more impotent fury and less actual fury. That would result in fewer injuries and a happier world all around. Seriously people...get a grip on your emotions. And your genitals. Just try getting angry while hoisting a fistful of private parts.

That would change a lot. No anger, impotent or fully erect. No lab bombers. No assault....it's tough to think of violence when everything you hold dear is well, everything you hold dear. Of course, we'd have to come up with a new label. Ecowankers, I'm thinking. Fits, too, because they'd be doing physically what they've
been doing mentally for years.

Of course, there are worse things to be hit with than lemur poo.

Smut's Happening?

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 21 Feb 2010 19:24:00 +0000

"Tree's company"

I once knew a preacher who provided sex education to some of his parishioners. He was particularly well informed on how to achieve the perfect position at the perfect time. He was very much admired for his sermon on the mount.

Are sex and religion mutually exclusive? I think not, else why would so many religions f*** up so many people? Never have so many been diddled and left unsatisfied and confused. We're not even talking about organized religion here, nah. Organization would actually help them.

I am referring to the many schools of thought and belief which hypothesize an angry God with no sense of humor and no real affection for the process which creates more of us each day.

So then what we mostly have is a bunch of people following rules they don't really understand fully, making more people, in the dark and with their clothes on, lest they get caught.

Well, I say...huh? Go rent some porn! Randomly fondle your wife/significant other. Expose yourself to....erm, wait. Strike that last one. The jails are full enough, thanks. How is it a bunch of people with no sexual experience got put in the position of telling others how and when to have sex? And doing an altar boy doesn't count. There's no how or when to that at all.

So, liberate yourself. Go celebrate your smutty side. Go touchy feely, but not at work. Been there, grabbed that, and it didn't end well. Hug a perv, or a tree if you're shy and praise the beauty of people and their bods. Just try to remain clothed in ~~pubic.~~ Public.

Hi, Ho

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Fri, 19 Feb 2010 20:37:00 +0000

If the house is rockin'....

Hmmm...is everybody happy?

Thought so.

Happy is as happy does. I'm gonna get a pillow and embroider that on it. Then I'm going to beat the next person who isn't happy over the head with the pillow. It's called positive reinforcement. How positive, you ask? (Don't think just because you are nowhere near me I can't hear you. Oh yes...) Well, I'm positive it does some good, because getting hit with a happy pillow can only help the downhearted curmudgeons among you.

Notice I say you. I am happy. A few years ago, I was grumpy. Before that dopey, before that sleepy...I think you see where I'm going with this. To Snow White's place. That hot bitch. If I go back as a different dwarf each time, it's like having group sex, one at a time.

Happy isn't difficult to achieve, and I don't get why people make such a struggle out of the process. You want happy, just be happy. You want horny, get horny. You wanna be happy and horny, be a divorced comedian. Yep, it is all about me.

Thank God I've got that horny broad hiding in the woods....

Kvetch Me If You Can

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 17 Feb 2010 08:32:00 +0000

Maybe Nike is right, and I should just "do it". Seems fair. After all, I have had years of "it" being done to me.

When I was in my 20's, it seemed like I had all the time in the world to do what I wanted to do. Now I know better. I still have time, but now it seems finite. So, I am being instead of doing. All the books and all the gurus tell me life happens just as it's supposed to, so why worry?

The trick is to avoid being mistaken for Alfred E. Neuman. A little worry is necessary, I think. The theory goes it will prevent me from repeating the same mistakes. Hasn't worked so far, but there's still hope. Finite hope, but hope nonetheless.

We learn from our mistakes. I think. What I have learned is to keep repeating them, because they are my mistakes and they seem safe. It's scary to try something new. There's a chance I might succeed, and then what would I have to kvetch about?

Kvetching is fun. It drives this blog most days. Other days, my chauffeur Ralph drives the Chronicle, but mostly it's kvetching. I have noticed I get better mileage since I had the engine tuned, but it still has a tendency to veer to the left at high speeds. Somewhat like our government.

Providence does smile at me now and then. On the way to the bus stop last night, I was almost mowed down by a woman in a white car who was looking for oncoming traffic from her left instead of straight ahead at the pedestrian attempting to cross the street while fighting for his life. I absurdly kept leaning on her hood and pushing, as if I could stop her car from flattening me. My cat's life flashed before my eyes, and I was becoming concerned this chick was going to bag a new hood ornament when she saw me and stepped on the brakes. "I'm sorry", she mouthed. "Jesus Christ! What the hell's wrong with you?" I bellowed. Then I moved on. It's important to maintain a Zen attitude at times like that, but "Buddha! What the hell's wrong with you?" just didn't seem right.

Randomness

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 16 Feb 2010 15:45:00 +0000

Had a request for German pop singers yesterday. Didn't know there were any. I don't suppose Rammstein counts?

Sign at the front of the bus says "Danger. Do not walk in front of bus." I think if you have to be told that, you ought not to be riding the bus by yourself.

Marriage is the only life sentence we receive before we've actually done anything. "I do. Well, I mean I will. I haven't really done anything yet, your honor, but I promise to. Um...is there an exercise yard?" I got time off after 24 years for bad behavior.

I have an idea to end the war on terror, bring our soldiers home and stimulate the economy by putting lots of people back to work.

The government needs to get together with several big movie studios and arrange to build a fake New York City just a little to the left of the real one.Call it the world's biggest movie set. This will really piss the terrorists off, and when they aim another plane at the "twin towers", they're in for a big surprise. The buildings will be made out of plywood, behind which are huge blocks of Krazy Glue. Aha! Stuck fanatics! We can go on to build replicas of all our major cities, and we'll get Goodyear to loan us some blimps, park two above and either side of the real cities, run a rope between them and hang a huge sky-colored curtain, completely hiding the true towns and foiling the crazed sky crackpots.

Genius, eh? Millions of people put back to work, thousands of sticky terrorists, and no more soldiers in combat zones.

I'm waiting for your call, Obama.

It's Scary Out There

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Mon, 15 Feb 2010 08:00:00 +0000

"What are you wearing precious?"

What the online dating world needs is a site specifically for those who spend their evenings watching classic TV on dvd, drinking a carton of Gallo and popping Cheetos in after every sip of the 2/15/10 chablis.

It could really work. The site would be full of profiles featuring pictures of ~~losers~~ loners who look exactly like Brad Pitt, Antonio Banderas, Jessica Alba and Angelina Jolie. That they in reality more closely resemble Gollum is beside the point. None of them are ever going to actually meet anyway.

The "date" will consist of increasingly smutty text messages, fueled by the fevered dreams brought on by episodes of Bewitched, Star Trek, and Gomer Pyle. That last one concerns me a bit, but to geek his own.

This is as close to real life as these folks are going to get. It's one step down from virtual dating, but a couple steps up from a hand sandwich. At least it offers a fantasy that exists somewhere, even though it's in an alternate reality.

I really think dating site operators are missing the starship on this one. There are hundreds of thousands of lonely, socially stunted dreamers out there with sweaty palms and sweatier underwear just waiting for that once in a lifetime potential hookup.

The only thing to fear is, erm....a face to face somewhere outside the apartment.

Make $$$ Online

Calling A Spade A Shovel

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 14 Feb 2010 09:42:00 +0000

Politically correct be damned. Things have gone way too far, and we are much poorer for it. Everyone is so uptight these days. Someone sneezed at work the other day, and I was afraid to say "God bless you." Somehow, "The Universe blesses you" just doesn't sound right.

Why am I so afraid to offend? Who cares if the deity dispenses blessings on our bodily emissions? And, ewwwww. Okay, that offended me a bit, but the thing is, if we can't laugh at ourselves, then what's the point of a sense of humor? Relax folks. We're not laughing at you, we're....well, okay, we are laughing at you, but still.

Protected groups? When did certain people become like the spotted owl? Geez, too damn bad that someone pointed out your skin color/national origin/race/religion/sexual preference. Get over it. We are the ~~world~~ the same anyway, so what's the difference? It's our similarity that should be celebrated, not our ~~eunuch~~ uniqueness.

Why all the anger and hurt feelings? If you prick me, do I not kick the living crap out of you? Sure, but you are in no danger of bodily harm if you call me a frustrated, horny, repressed, middle-aged white guy. That's white with a small "w", by the way. And anyway, I don't identify myself by my skin color. I identify myself by my huge package.

The only race we should be afraid of losing is the human race.

Make $$$ Online

Nobody Likes A Smart Astral

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Fri, 12 Feb 2010 10:04:00 +0000

"Dammit! I can't masturbate. Hey! Body! Wake up!"

In perusing other humor blogs, I find that I am usually the first one to get existential. Is it wrong of a humor blog to explore the deeper issues? Must all of life be funny?

Hell, yeah. And duh. I happen to think the next journey will be as funny as this one.

Meantime, I feel compelled to bring you all a little sunshine each day while we're sharing this particular reality. I will continue to explore different planes of existence and report back to you.

I have lately been randomly blogging out of body and I gotta tell you, it's pretty tough on the body. I mean, it just sits over there in the recliner and watches despondently while I have all the fun. Sometimes I fear many of you are getting cheated during these events, because my body is pretty damn funny. I have pictures if you're curious.

On the other hand, my essence is more spiritual and deals the laughs from a much more ethereal place. It can often be difficult to catch the delicate humor of my inner being, so if you have read previous posts and not laughed, don't feel bad. We can't all be evolved.

Occasionally I ask myself the important questions when I am shed of my corporeal half, but the answers I get are from such a lofty plane and so "New Agey" I pretty much don't understand myself. Either that or they're just snarky, which I understand just fine. It pisses me off when I am like that with me. Since Valentine's Day is Sunday, maybe I'll buy myself some chocolate and champagne and send my stuffing out so my body can enjoy some quality time.

Whoa! I'm beside myself with excitement.

Literally.

Make $$$ Online

Edema Isn't What It Used To Be

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Thu, 11 Feb 2010 08:52:00 +0000

Mister Ed. Nothing whatsoever to do with mister edema, but a really funny show. See, there's this talking horse who only talks to his owner, Wilbur. Everyone thinks Wilbur is a loon, but we know he's pretending to talk to a horse with peanut butter on its lips.

I called the clinic for results of my blood test today and they said Doc Rick had gone home and they couldn't tell me anything.

"So, I have to wait until tomorrow to find out if I'm dying?" The nurse chortled and said she'd ask one of the other docs. A few minutes later she returned to tell me my blood test was normal. Normal? For what? Diabetics? People with restricted blood circulation? Bloggers with impaired senses of humor?

But you know me, I never worry, so I calmly told the lady I would wait calmly until tomorrow morning to hear from Rick(!)with more specific details, and calmly said, "Thank you, you supercilious bitch."

No, I didn't. But I have always wanted to use supercilious and bitch in a sentence, and there aren't that many opportunities these days.

So here I am with my freakishly enlarged ankle and no reason why. Perhaps I could rent myself out as a circus geek. Maybe the National Enquirer would pay money for pictures.

I've always wanted to be a man of mystery. Who knows, this might help me with women. "Hey sexy. Wanna come over and look at my ankle?" Then again, maybe not.

"Is that a fascinated expression, or are you trying not to retch? Okay, I promise next time I'll wear clean socks."

With freakishly enlarged body parts, presentation is everything.

Make $$$ Online

I Feel Swell

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 10 Feb 2010 08:34:00 +0000
What are you gonna do with that needle?

My left ankle is swollen to twice the size of my right ankle. The doctor, Rick, (how I long for the days when we called doctors "doctor"),says there are two possibilities, poor circulation or diabetes. How I long for the days when doctors had a bedside manner. Never mind the fact I was sitting on a sheet of tissue paper with my pants rolled above my knees, I would have liked some sugar coating with my prognosis.

"Poor circulation or diabetes"? That's it? I have no other options? How about some mutant gene that gives the HumorSmith family freakishly enlarged calves? Hey, I'm desperate here. If I have a condition that calls for me to inject myself daily, I will.....well, choosing between sticking myself with a pointy thing and lapsing into a sugar nap will be a real challenge. I have a fear of needles so pronounced that my family refers to me as their very own Bert Lahr. "I do believe in pain, I do believe in pain. I do, I do, I do....."

Poor circulation makes more sense. Since the divorce, that's actually been true on many levels. I am a healthy, albeit warped male, and there is no reason for me to behave otherwise. I only went to Rick's,(and doesn't everyone go there?), because my feet were really hurting every time I walked to the bus, and I wanted some pain pills. Is that too much to ask? Next time, I'll check down the block and see if Super Fly is home.

Copyright © 2010 thehumorsmithchronicle

Words Play

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 09 Feb 2010 08:00:00 +0000
"Alas, poor Judy. I knew her..."

Not to make myself feel old, but I can remember when woody was a cool station wagon, an animated woodpecker, and a character on Cheers.

Language is always evolving, but the adolescent within never does, thank God.Where would we be without that ever present urge to snicker at anything which we can twist into potential funny, or even better, smut?

True, this tendency has gotten me into some trouble at work and family gatherings with distant relatives, (the near ones know me well enough not to utter anything which can be rendered single or double entendre), but the humor value alone is well worth the indignant reactions.

So is humor in and of itself juvenile, or only the best humor?Is sophomoric a bad thing? I say it depends on the context and the audience. I am always ready to laugh approvingly at a well-turned play on words,but I suppose not everyone shares that feeling. No matter, if it was good enough for Shakespeare, it is certainly good enough for me. So I welcome the feeling of creating a groan-worthy pun, even if I get stuck between a rock and a bard place.

*dingdong* Avon calling....

"Alas poor Yorick"

Of course the line does not continue, "I knew him well",but "I knew him, Horatio.."

I bring this up because, well, it's "up to you, knew Yorick, knew Yorick!!!! Start spreadin' the news...."

Make $$$ Online

Copyright © 2010 thehumorsmithchronicle

Souldier Boy

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 18:46:00 +0000
Heard of the soul train? Right now, this is all I can afford

So? Monday again? That fact alone does me no bother; it's good to have survived another week. No, what preys on my mind and prevents my soul from getting a well-deserved nap is the usual life stuff: why am I working at a job I can't stand, and at what age will I finally get to do what I like and get paid, and how long will the Pizza Hut large pizza for $10 deal last?

That last one really gets me. I mean, being spiritual and all is important, but the body also demands fuel. And money. I'm having some trouble getting my soul to demand money, but my body and mind are up with it, and if the soul wishes to continue being a povert, that's its lookout.

Where would the soul spend this money anyway, and on what? I already have enough incense and meditation mats. I don't need more copies of the collected works of Deepak Chopra. If it's the soul's desire that I pay more attention to it, then souldier boy really needs to stop trying to bore me into submission.

Where the soul lives is all sweetness and love, but out here in the midst of the teeming masses of humanity, the physical envelope needs money and job satisfaction, which two I fully believe are not mutually exclusive. Don't get me wrong; I want my soul to be all it can be, (I tried getting it to join the army, but no dice),but how exactly do I show others my shiny new inner being? Hey guys, check this out? __________

Oh, never mind. Just watch me perform random acts of love and kindness and then please toss some cash into my hat.

Make $$$ Online

Copyright © 2010 thehumorsmithchronicle

HumorSmith Part Douche Deux

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 07 Feb 2010 20:15:00 +0000

Relax. My childhood didn't last nearly as long as the posts about it do. On the other hand, you've read this far, so...

At 8 or so, I thought I was Superman. This led to many interesting experiments with gravity. And once with gravy, but Mom and Dad soon put an end to dinner table feats of heroism. If you're curious, it is not possible to throw a gravy boat at your sister and race to the other side of the table to catch it before it hits her. At least, I wasn't able to manage. I felt really bad, despite my hysterical laughter. Kids can do that, cry inside and laugh outside at the same time. After that meal, I became much more adept at laughing inside, which was handy as inside the house was as far as I was allowed to go for the 3 weeks following the adventure of the flying gravy.

A couple years later, I thought I was Napoleon Solo. I would've been James Bond, had my folks allowed me to see Goldfinger at such a tender age. But for the time being, I was with U.N.C.L.E. Perhaps not as much fun as Superman, but the suit wasn't nearly as ridiculous. As an added bonus, I could shoot my siblings in lieu of flinging dinnerware at them, so it wasn't all bad, especially considering a rubber-tipped dart is more survivable than a crystal punchbowl, at least theoretically.

As I grew, my violent tendencies became much less pronounced, and my humor much more evident. Unless you consider the harm I'm doing to the written word....

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Talking My Ear Off

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sat, 06 Feb 2010 08:00:00 +0000

I now have a Twitter account. Great. I can't keep up with my friggin' blog, and now I'm supposed to tweet?

I have to admit it's pretty handy. I can comment on things that I find funny in the moment, rather than waiting until I get home and forget what I was going to write. You knew that all along, didn't you? You guessed I was making this all up on the fly. Good for you.

But trust me, this is all true.

Just one more thing we have to use to stay in contact. Tweeter is less obtrusive than the giant objects people have sticking in their ears, though. I saw a guy in Johnny Rockets last night who looked like he was receiving instructions from the Borg. That damn earphone was huge. I figure he can use it to explore for wax when he's not talking to the mothership.

Is it really necessary to own one of those? Is it far too difficult to flip open a cellphone and talk? Maybe for that guy; I did notice his buddy was feeding him.

Apparently we don't want to expend any more effort than we absolutely must. Not bad enough many of us suffer from ADD, but now our muscles are developing short attention spans.

I can't wait until we can have entire conversations without ever seeing the other person. Hmmm, perhaps that cell tower has already sailed. Then there's all the street people carrying on extended chats with unseen parties. How about that? The homeless are finally ahead of the curve on something.

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HumorSmith Part One

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Fri, 05 Feb 2010 18:52:00 +0000

In the beginning, I wasn't as funny. I dimly recall laughter when I was a small HumorSmith, but I think it was directed at me, rather than something witty I had said/done. On the other foot, how much wit can you expect from a child?

I always wanted to be a disc jockey, the real kind that have their own radio shows and get to play their fave tunes. Right. I was a bit behind the curve on that one. When I was in radio, (it's easy, especially with the old-style floor console models. You just unscrew the back and there's usually enough room for you inside among the tubes), all the music was preselected for the day, and the only choice I had was when to play the commercials. Is it any wonder hit music radio is dying? And no, I had nothing to do with its demise. I only manage to kill off my own livelihood. I don't take down entire corporations and industries, thank you.

But I undress. Growing up, I recall much humor in the house, and not a little Smith. Well, except for my little brother, but he was the littlest Smith. He's gotten bigger, but that's another biography, and he can damn well write his own.

Dad was always joking, except when he was being stern, which wasn't often. Once,when we were visiting Uncle Bill, he took us out on his boat, and Dad was at the stern, but again, that's a tale for another time. Preferably one where you will find it amusing.

I think I'm beginning to see why my life has seemed so long. I'm trying to tell you about it, and we're not even out of the first chapter yet. As many who know me have gleefully pointed out, "Monkey see shiny object." As I believe monkey is the root of all evil, I shall say no more on the subject. Well, okay, there was this one incident when I was playing poker with some simians, and we got into an argument over some missing poker chimps, but.....fortunately my Ante Wanda showed up and set things right.

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Humor Me

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sat, 30 Jan 2010 04:08:00 +0000
*Whew*

Am I lazy or just not in the mood to blog? Whichever, I feel as though I am a virtual stranger to my own words, which is no mean feat considering I have been responsible for laying down some of the strangest words ever. Well, not the words themselves perhaps, but surely the context is a tad off base.

What have I been doing? Oh man, let me tell you, between the fun packed amusement park of my job and watching Netflix videos every night, I hardly have time to calm down, never mind dazzle you with my quick wit and bon mots.

I used to deal in Bon Marche mots until they threatened me with litigation. Or was that tubal ligation? In any event, neither one sounded pleasant, so I ceased and resisted immediately.

I am really going to endeavor to show up more regularly. On that note, I'd also like to be more regular in general, but that may be something you don't need to know. I'll just keep it between me and my Grape-Nuts.

I shall begin the long awaited HumorSmith life story here soon. Well okay, perhaps long anticipated? Watched for?

Feared?

Am I in danger of dropping 96 of 97 subscribers? Tune in next time!

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Arresting Developments

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 03 Jan 2010 20:11:00 +0000

I think I know why the law has been so slow to catch on to my free picture plan

Hope your holidays were nice. I've been down at the ATM getting my picture taken. I'm on a severe budget due to my plan to leave my cushy full time retail manager who stays in hell 5 days a week being assaulted daily by upper management, (up your management by the way, if you're reading this), job and get myself some nice, simple, laid back menial jobs, say 3 or 4 to start and build my comedy empire on the side.

Of course, I may try and build on the top, it all depends on how I feel and which way my Feng Shui is pointing.

Getting my pics taken at the ATM is free, and they actually turn out kinda nice. I need a good head shot for my comedy resume that I plan to give to club owners, talent agents, and homeless people.

The hard part is getting the film out of the camera, but once I cover the lens, they have no idea who's trying to break into the machine. Ha! I got them good. I really have this one figured out.

Excuse me, I hear someone at the door......

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