One Sick puppy
*An Illinois man was charged with having sex with a dog. Apparently the dog liked to do it people style.
That’s a serious offense. For every year he is sentenced to jail, it’s really seven.
Not since that
*Bill Clinton security advisor Sandy Berger claims he inadvertently stuffed National Archives documents into his pants and accidentally threw them away. It’s the first time something inadvertently ended up in a Clinton administration member’s pants since, well, Monica.
And today, Bill Clinton claims he inadvertently stuffed a Hooter’s waitress in his pants.
And it drinks, just like a Chardonnay, but it tastes, just like a little Ripple
*Bob Dylan is working with a winery to come out with his own wine. It’s strong. Two glasses of the Bob Dylan wine and you won’t be able to pronounce one single lyric.
The Bob Dylan wine goes great with pasta, seafood and most of your hallucinogens.
One sip and you'll be knock, knock, knockin' on bathroom's door.
I can’t wait
*Ken Jennings has now won over a million dollars on “Jeopardy.” If Jennings wins another one hundred thousand, than Alex Trebek will officially become his bitch.
It’s always the last place you look
*Los Alamos National Lab in New Mexico is reporting it is missing two computer discs of highly classified weapons information. Have they checked inside Sandy Berger’s pants?
*Martha Stewart compared her plight with that of Nelson Mandela. That is the most self-indulgent, egregious over-exaggeration since Ralph Nader called himself a presidential candidate.
*Lance Armstrong is leading the Tour de France. There are reports of spectators spitting on Lance. You have to give the French credit, only the French could come up with a way to be offensive to an American tourist who is traveling past them at over thirty-miles-an-hour.
Sadly, spitting on Lance is historically the strongest resistance the French have ever put up against an invading foreigner.
Lance Armstrong is leading the Tour de France. In addition, Lance set a new world record for the biggest farmer’s tan.
Of course the French are spitting on Lance Armstrong. When he rides past them even their body odor isn't bad enough to be offensive at thirty-miles-an-hour.
How about the Washington Misinformers?
*In baseball news, the rumor is that the Montreal Expos will be going to Washington D.C. No word on what the Washington team will be named, but, for my money, you have to consider the Dangling Chads, Kneeling Interns, Unread Memos and Undisclosed Locations.
This just in
*Krispy Kreme introduced a liquid version of their glazed donut. This is for those of you tired of the labor intensive chewing required to eat donuts, the liquid Krispy Kreme will now make it possible to actually have Krispy Kremes fed intravenously into your arm.
*Apparently Halle Barry and Sharon Stone did not get along during “Cat Woman.” It got so bad that, at one point, they thought of changing the movie name to “Catty Women.”
Halle Barry and Sharon Stone did not get along during “Cat Woman.” And apparently Sharon Stone didn’t get along with a lot of people who were going to be involved in the sequel to “Basic Instinct.” So, when Sharon plays a real scary character, that ain’t so much acting.
The 9-11 Commission reports that our country is in dire need of better intelligence. Well, no kidding, anyone who has seen any of our reality programming could have figured that out.
Since you asked:
My Sainted –and as some would say – long suffering child bride, Virginia, as I have mentioned, is on a quest to gaslight me. (Secretly drive me crazy)
Yesterday, it was hot. I had gone for a run and was running late to meet a friend and needed a quick shower. Since my foresight doesn’t extend to making sure there is a clean towel waiting – there usually is, especially in our guest bathroom – I didn’t think to look for a towel when I hopped in the shower. Dripping wet, I saw a cream-colored towel on the counter. Being a guy’s guy, since the towel didn’t look like it had been used recently to clean up a sewage spill, I deemed it fit to dry off with, excuse my preposition.
There I am happily drying off, when I suddenly feel something in my mouth and then a vague itchy feeling all over. Then I catch my image in the mirror. Not an extremely pleasurable duty anyway, this glance in the mirror was particularly shocking as the towel I was using was apparently the one that our yellow labs, Kasey and Wrigley, had taken turns sleeping on for a month. My body was veritably covered in white, downy, shed dog fur. I looked like a polar bear with a horrible case of mange.
Why my lovely, sweet, kind, wife decided to go to all of the trouble to put that fur-covered towel in our bathroom instead of, oh, say, the laundry room? Because she is trying to gaslight me.
Any thoughts or comments, here I am. Be nice, comedy writers are sensitive and needy as a lost puppy in the rain.