The HumorSmith Chronicle

Because I Said So

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 23 May 2012 06:26:00 +0000

Every now and then I think maybe I should ask you my faithful readers, (well, at least those of you who aren't here because you Googled Alicia Machado tits*) what you'd like to see me do here, if you'd like me to change it up, try a new approach, branch out and actually be funny. Then I snap out of it and realize it's all about me and who cares what you want?

Oh stop looking at me like that. What did you get me for my birthday last year? When's the last time you invited me over for dinner, or sent me a check? Right, so get over it already. You're here because you want to be amused for free, and that's exactly the pay I have in mind when I write, so everything works out nicely.

Mind you, I'm not averse to dipping my toes into deeper water, but I have discovered after many years of introspection that I have no depth. Nope, I am all surface. Makes it pretty easy to get to know me, but you probably won't want to spend a lot of time doing so, because the payoff is not huge.

I'm not complaining. The world needs clowns, probably more so now than ever before, and I am happy to provide that service. Besides look what happens when you mix clowns and depth. You get Patch Adams, and who wants that? No, stay funny clowns I say. That's the way we want you and don't forget it. Crying into my martinis is my own business and I see no need to subject my audience to my morosity. I truly try not to post when I am having one of those moments because it's hard enough making funny when I am in a great mood.

The tears never last long anyway. Shallow pool you know. So I've been divorced twice (the second time after 24 years together) and lost nearly all my friends and everything I've owned. So what? It's really pretty funny if you think about it long enough. Think of the effort I put into getting here. Do you realize it takes as much effort to go down the ladder as up? I am an achiever after all.

And having to replace piecemeal the stuff I lost is kinda fun. It's like getting brand new things in return for your used stuff. Sort of like insurance for the financially retarded.

What I find cool is that I am not depressed or suicidal or even unhappy. Turns out I am resilient, more resilient than I ever knew.

"Hey! My wife left me after 24 years!!"

"Really? What'd she leave you?"

"Alone."

"What APR?"

"No, dumbass. Alone...as in single and...oh never mind."

"I usually don't."

Fortunately both the voices in my head have a good sense of humor.

*Here, let me save you the time.....http://www.humorsmith.com/2011/01/eternally-spotless.html

Okay, swear to god, I was done but I just checked the "Search Keywords" for the Chronicle and really, I kid you not, this came up: "kool aid and origami jumping frogs". I have no effin' idea. In fact I am pretty sure I don't want to know, but.....origami jumping frogs???

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Neither Cohere Or Cothere

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sat, 19 May 2012 05:55:00 +0000

In traveling the blog circuit, I have noticed some of my fellow webbies have difficulty at times putting their thoughts together in an easily understood format. As a lover of the written word, I have decided to offer my help, and I thought it might be fun to start with the use of metaphors and sarcasm.

A metaphor is the use of a descriptive phrase that is not literal:

"I hope the Chronicle will be back on its feet soon."

Sarcasm is the use of a phrase to denote a poor opinion of the subject by the speaker:

"Geez! That coffee table goes so well with your dress", said the Bose 151SE.

In any case, what we strive for here is clarity. I may not always say what I mean, but I do always mean what I say, albeit in a "please don't take this wrong and get angry, search me out and render grievous bodily harm" kind of way.

I wouldn't say I'm a physical coward so much as someone who is afraid of being physically hurt..

Which brings me to this letter from Mr. Mark Miwerdz, a reader from Buffalo Wings, Nebraska.

"Mr. HumorSmith, I have tried unsuccessfully for years to understand just what you're up to with the Chronicle, and I simply do not get it. At worst you're a subversive, at best you are a symbol of all that is wrong with the blogging community.

I do not like to travel, but rest assured if you do not start posting coherently and succinctly, I shall find you and render grievous bodily harm upon your person.

Warmly,
Mark"

Well at least he's polite.

I do take his point though, so I shall try to make sense and be easily comprehended from now on.

Keep in mind I have been alone for quite a while now, so finding someone to help me be herent may be difficult. Anyone know of a woman who would be willing to be my coherent?

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

How Dare You Speak To Me?

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 15 May 2012 18:49:00 +0000

Warning!! The following just might be a rant!

Why does fresh brewed coffee have a carafe life? Is it asking too much to expect that last cup of coffee to be as fresh as the first? What the hell is that industrial sludge at the bottom of the third cup that tastes like old underwear and leaves an invisible but still chewy film in my mouth?

Is it because I'm using Starbucks® House ~~Bland~~ Blend? I know that's a mess o' questions and if some of you have still not had your morning cup yet, wtf? It's 11:20 already. You going to sleep all day?

Hey, I'm sure I pissed Howard off with that Starbucks® crack, so why not start on my audience? That would be you. Apparently I will not only bite the hand that feeds me, but chew the fingers off as well. You can't say I got up on the wrong side of the bed, because I only have one side off of which I can bounce. The other catapults me into the wall, and those are mornings I tend to sleep in, if a self-induced coma counts as sleep.

I probably shouldn't be this cranky, especially since we are on the 5th day of sunny skies and warmth (relative) here in Shitattle, but I am still prickly. Maybe it's a sign of aging, maybe patience wears as thin as hair as life goes on. Or it could just be I am tired of all the incredibly stupid fucking people in this world who can't seem to put one thought in front of the other.

Stupid and surly. When I smile and greet folks, it's incredible how many don't look me in the eye or acknowledge me or even utter anything other that a grunt. It's as if millions of years of evolution and language have disappeared overnight. Whenever I go shopping, I acknowledge the sales staff because it's polite. They work for a living, and it is their job to greet me, just as it's my job to respond. I carry it further than that. I acknowledge greetings from any fellow human who takes the time to honor me with a smile or a wink or a nod. It's polite.

The stupid part comes into play when, and maybe it's mob mentality brought on by the sensory overload that is the mall experience in America, but how can it be that no one who goes into a store can figure out how to turn something off after they've turned it on, or remember where the item they picked up 3 minutes ago belongs, even if it's their own child? Because we cannot forget those award-winning parents who take their children to the mall and use store employees as babysitters. You wouldn't believe the number of times I have seen stores full of kids running around on sugar highs and not a parent in sight. Really, did none of them ever watch Without a Trace? I despair for our species, although I do hold out a lot of hope for Darwinism.

And my coffee.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Zoning Twilight

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Fri, 11 May 2012 03:08:00 +0000

Hmm. 570 visitors yesterday. Does this mean I should post more often?

Another reason to dislike Seattle is drivers like the guy this morning who blithely kept rolling through the crosswalk even though I was at the halfway point. He didn't even look up to see my salute. Pity, I hate wasting angry energy, which is often the best kind.

Ever notice how much you accomplish when you're mad? Incredible, isn't it? I almost cleaned my room today before I left for work, but since I just cleaned Christmas Day, I didn't feel it was necessary. Anger is sort of a new feeling for me, at least long-term. I most usually explode for a few minutes, my cat hides until it's all over and then I go on with my day. The past week however, has been a different story. I'm not going to tell you why I'm pissy, so don't ask.

And before you go all New Agey on me and remind me anger hurts the carrier more than the target, let me just say, "fuck off".

Wow. That didn't hurt a bit.

I was reading the wisdom of that great Led Zeppelin inspired self-help author, Dr. Wayne D'yer Maker, who said, "We are here for a reason. The reason may not always be clear, but in most cases it lies between the pit of man's fears and the summit of his knowledge."

Evidently Dr. Wayne is quite the Rod Serling fan. And the Jack Daniel's, which is about all the self-help I need, thanks awfully.

And don't try to tell me Twilight wouldn't have been a much better film had it been more in the Zone. In my opinion, it was a complete waste of time, but it would have been improved by more '60's fantasy TV references. And if Edward had died in the first 10 minutes. I mean died for real, not like, "Eek! A stake! Oh, I must go now, but I'll be back as soon as the box office tallies are in."

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Past Imperfect

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 09 May 2012 04:30:00 +0000

http://www.72gopher.org/72gopher/images/SeniorArgus72.pdf

What is the above link you ask? Puffery says I. I have often wondered if my writing has changed much over the years, and I must sadly admit it has not. At all. Frightening evidence of this blatant case of arrested development is to be found at the above link which will take you to the senior edition of my high school paper from May 23 1972, which link I did not even know existed before this evening. I thought all my past meanderings were lost to posterity and the occasional Honey Bucket.

If your eyes have not yet glazed over, you will find my teenage ramblings by scrolling down four pages and looking for the column "Stevenotes". In high school I went by my middle name instead of Humor, hence the "Steve".

This may be the end of a once-promising comedic writing career, but in the interests of full disclosure, I think you have a right to know.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

I Don't Have A Title

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Mon, 07 May 2012 19:07:00 +0000

Whoa! 328 visitors Saturday and 342 on Sunday? All for lil' ol' me? Well, shucks. All right, to be fair a good number of them came here looking for this, but that's okay. "If she's really built, they will come." We can call her Braless Jo.

I have ranted a lot about Shitattle and why I abhor this soggy excuse for a city. It's like Mayberry without the charm or the sunshine, but with the personality of Barney Fife. 58 sunny days a year does not make up for the rest. I was pleasantly surprised to learn I am not alone in my antipathy for this urban canker sore. This site has many who feel as I do. And before you say, "Why don't you just move HumorSmith", let me assure you I plan to do just that as soon as I can.

Of course that might leave me nothing to blog about but my faithful readers should know that has never stopped me from posting.

I have long believed wisdom comes with age, yet I seem to be gaining not in wisdom but in crankiness. I don't know if it's my current environment or if it's just the emergence of my inner asshole, but I find myself losing patience faster than a doctor with the shakes. If you don't see what I did there, don't worry. My malaise also seems to be affecting my pun ability. As for wisdom, well in my 50's or no, I still ask silly questions.

"If a plane's propellers keep falling off, is that malapropism?"

"Is a unitard someone who's so stupid he is absolutely unique in his stupidity?"

"Is collywobbles what happens when Lassie drinks to excess?"

"Is pandering pimping adorable little bears from China?"

"Is sarcasm actually as big as the Grand Canyon, but funnier?"

That was sarchasm, by the way.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Put On A Happy Face

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Mon, 30 Apr 2012 02:46:00 +0000

If you're wondering what the image above has to do with today's post, don't. It hasn't anything to do with this.

As I often wish I didn't. It happens to be the CD I'm playing at the moment, and if you're curious it's a previously unreleased concert from the wet as hell and how the f*** do I get outta this hellhole city. Probably the last really good thing to happen here. I don't really know as I never go outside except to work because the weather always blows. Unlike Stan Getz and Sonny Stitt, not in a good way.

I still don't know why I'm still here. I was talking to a friend earlier today, (yes I do have one) and he pointed out I have no commitments and nothing to hold me back so I can leave any time I choose.

Except for that pesky thing called living expenses, that's true. I am waiting on work to transfer me, but death will probably arrive first. I will get transferred either way, but I'd rather it be by work. At least I'll have some say in where they send me. Just to be safe I am avoiding all contact with guys in long robes, hoods and carrying scythes.

On the other hand, with ol' Grimmy, my worries would be over. Unless there's stuff to worry about in the afterlife. Perhaps I have been asking for the wrong things all this time. Whining about not getting laid is not the same as asking to be laid out. I think. With death there are no second acts and no rehearsal. Unless you count this blog. Wait a minute....you aren't are you?

Man I have got to go where the sun is. Look what living under skies like this has done to me. Every day, people. Every stinking day. People who choose to live here are nuts. People who have to live here are morbid. This is a great place to be if you're a Goth. Or a sloth. If you like sun, stay the hell away. What's really funny about this is the cost of living here is unreal. Not only do we have to live without sun and warmth, we pay a lot for the privilege.

The only thing this place has going for it is.....................................................

I'll get back to you.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

May The Police Force Be With You

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Fri, 20 Apr 2012 17:16:00 +0000

It was sunny and hot in the city. Good thing, because I was working the night watch out of darkcide. There had been three murders the past month. Witnesses described a guy in a Darth Vader costume fleeing the scene. My name is Thursday. I carry a badger.

The phone rang. "Thursday, darkcide."

"Is this the police?"

"Yes ma'am. How can I help you?"

"My husband hasn't gone out of the house in 20 years. Please help me get him to go to our daughter's birthday party."

"Sorry ma'am. This is darkcide. You want outcide. You'll have to dial this number-"

"What? Can't you connect me?"

"No ma'am. It's an outside line."

When the phone rang again, I was surprised because I hadn't hung up yet. "Thursday, darkcide."

"This is Adrian Messenger. I live at the Tatooine Arms on Sith and Fisher. Can you come over?"

"Don't you mean Sixth and Fisher?"

"Yes."

"Then why didn't you say so?"

"Can't you tell I have a lithp?"

"Well, now that you mention ith."

"Are you going to come help or make fun of meeth?"

"Can't I do both?"

"I gueth. Anyway while you're wathting time there's thum guy trying to break into our apartment."

"Can you describe him?"

"Theriouthly? You think I'm going to open the door? All I can tell you ith he thoundth like Jameth Earl Joneth and he'th got athma."

"I'll be right there."

"How will I know you?"

"I won't be wheezing."

Since I was in a hurry, I eschewed the squad car. It was a Volt and I only drove it when I had to arrive somewhere between now and Infiniti.

I was there in ten minutes. I knocked and Messenger opened up. "What kept you?"

"I walked. Where's this asthmatic?"

"Oh he must have heard meeth call you and got thcared."

"I see. Can you think of any reason why he'd want to kill you?"

"No. I haven't done anything."

I looked around and noticed an old guy in a wheelchair. He had a silver beard and was unnaturally pale. "Who's that?"

"That's my Uncle Kenobi. He bottheth meeth around thomething awful."

"He's old and frail and really pale. Why do you let him do that?"

"Family tradition. We mutht alwayth obey wan Kenobi."

I was beginning not to like this guy, but I refrained from drawing my .38. Don't kill the Messenger I guess.

"Why don't you put him in a home?"

"Becauth he ith very rich and I will inherit."

"Love him do you?"

"Like an uncle."

"Well, Mr. Messenger, there's not a lot I can do without a crime. I'll be going. You just call if you need me."

I turned to go when an asthmatic wheeze came from outside the door. The badger I carried squealed and squirmed. So did Messenger.

"The guy's back? Thought you said he was scared?"

"He mutht have got over ith."

"Uh huh." I drew my piece and reached for the knob.

"If you thoot meeth, I will only grow thronger." came the voice from the hall.

Suddenly it all fell into place. I remembered Adrian Messenger had been a ventriloquist back in the day. I'd bet my badger he was trying to scare the old man to death and get the money. I turned and pointed my gun at him.

"How'd you know?" he asked.

"Easy. I remember hearing about your act. And once I heard "Darth" talk it clinched it."

"My lithp?"

"Uh huh." And it was as simple as that. The case was solved by the lisp of Adrian Messenger.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Book Me, Danno

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 17 Apr 2012 21:21:00 +0000

I've gotten over my fear of becoming irrelevant. Mostly because I don't think I was ever relevant in the first place.

I look around at some of my fellow bloggers. You know the ones. They have published books, books waiting to be published by real book companies, invitations to lecture at seminars. Yeah, those folks

I think the word I'm grasping for is successful. Or maybe well known, close to famous. People who have achieved something. I try not to look back at what I have achieved, because the last time I did I emptied an entire box of Kleenex in five minutes.

It's not that I don't feel I've accomplished anything, it's more I feel I haven't done anything. What's really funny is I began blogging because I wanted to do something fun and not ever have to feel competitive or that I have to strive to succeed. What the hell? Is all life a race? If so, then I am the guy wearing tassel loafers and a wool suit sweating in the fast lane.

Most of the time I am an admirer of other people's artistic output. I give great audience. What I do creatively is visible right here, several times a month, sometimes weakly and sometimes daily but mostly when I feel like it.

An example of a weakly post is this one. Pretty weak so far huh?

I am a lover of words, which is sometimes problematic. You should see the bruises I have from sleeping and cuddling with Merriam-Webster. Or perhaps you shouldn't. I do practice safe sex, I always wear a lexicondom.

I have achieved my own measure of success which is that I make some people smile, some people laugh and some people fall asleep at their monitor. It all has value. I don't need glory. I don't need fame. Just a smile.

And a book deal. I could self-publish, but that doesn't appeal to me. I want the validation of a publishing house saying, "HumorSmith, you crack us up. Please come and let us publish you and put your words out to the masses."

Sorry, I don't write specifically for Catholics.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

When The Spirit Moves Me

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 10 Apr 2012 01:20:00 +0000

I have gotten hooked on Supernatural. Friends ask "What possessed you?" Easy. Netflix, the demon of time suck. The story centers around the adventures of Sam and Dean Winchester, a couple real sons of guns, and fighters against demons, vampires, werewolves, ghosts and assorted supernaturals (get it?) here to do the damnation shuffle on humanity.

Sort of like the bosses I've had in my wondrous retail career, except they aren't scared of salt or silver knives. Well, at least not silver, and honestly, since the rise of security (Orwellian) cameras in the workplace, they don't have much to fear from me knife wise either. Oh no. When I kill it will be swift and eternal like the last one-liner on the last night of vaudeville.

I would never kill anyone except with humor. Can dying of laughter be bad?

Anyway, back to our heroes. The entities these boys have been up against would stop any sane person from ever leaving the house. Which of course makes me wonder why I spend so much time indoors. Probably what passes for weather in Seattle, or as I like to call it, Shithole.

Sam and Dean now, they have some real badasses to face down every show.

So maybe they're not all badasses, but just wait until her eyes turn all black.

See? Never a good sign. Just try arguing with that. I'm guessing nothing short of a sawed-off shotgun full of rock salt is going to help.

I can hear traffic on the highway from my room. Yet another reason I love this town. Wait, did that work? I'm never sure sarcasm comes across well in print. Sometimes I think it's the nuances, but as I get along in life, I think maybe it's the oldances.

Dean and Sam have been through Hell. Well, Dean has anyway, so he knows a thing or 666 about battling evil.

Does this post seem a bit scattered to you? Yeah, me too. I think it's because I watch Netflix on my computer and it's oh so easy to flip from tab to tab during the slow parts of a show or movie. I think my attention span may be getting shor-

At work today I had to deal with a bed that was supposed to be shipped to the customer. Most of it was. Matter of fact, all of it. Except the frame. Hell of a thing to forget, huh?

When Dean was in Hell during Supernatural's summer break.....

Dammit!

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

How Should I Know?

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sat, 07 Apr 2012 06:59:00 +0000

What is this thing called life?

Uh uh. Forget it. I am definitely not going there. Every time I get philosophical, I end up in a funk for days. I don't know why it is but deep thinking tends to take all the fun out of my sails and just generally sour my mood. I'm not having any. Sorry.

Besides, what can I tell you that you don't already know about life? Not to mention if you're coming to me for advice, you're in much deeper trouble than you think and I recommend you see a professional.

Or maybe two.

So maybe I'm okay with some advice. I can definitely refer you to some help. Just don't expect me to partake. I'm concerned if I let someone try to fix my head they'll irrevocably damage my humor, and that's my job. I do enough damage inside my brain anyway, inviting someone else in would just be asking for trouble.

Besides, I am really not complicated. I like jazz and martinis and Acid cigars and women. What's so tough about that? All right, so maybe I shouldn't try to partake of all those things on a daily basis, but I"m an overachiever that way.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

That's The Rub

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 03 Apr 2012 03:20:00 +0000

It's spring break here in Seattle. Or something like that. I can tell something was up because we had teenagers in the store today. Early. Like before noon early. Several things are sure about teens and the mall. When they're out of school and the sun is shining and it's absolutely beautiful outside, they will be inside. In the mall. Many of them in my store. There are also a couple of certainties about their visit to my store.

It's a sure bet anything that has an "on" switch will be activated, and it's a sure bet that it will still be running long after the teens have departed. I know there is a lot to teach these hopes for the future, but is it really too much to ask that they be taught the opposite of "on"?

Next, the teens will gather around this item, put it on and laugh hysterically for minutes on end. As a bonus, this occurs not only on "no school" days, but every day, after school and on weekends and I suspect on Christmas if we were open. Evidently this is a funny massager. For minutes at a time. Those that are not fascinated by massage will find their attention drawn to pretty much anything that isn't tethered to a shelf. I am currently working on my study of the migratory habits of retail store items and its correlation to the number of teenagers in the vicinity.

The final visit is to the beds in the back of the store. Did you know it's possible to stack 25 teens on a twin bed? Well, it is. Not recommended, but it's possible. We do ask that no more than 1 person at a time inhabit a bed, and this request is usually met with derisive snorting and rolled eyes and the inevitable statement, "You know, I specifically came in to buy a bed today. Guess I won't be buying this one." I find it odd no one ever threatens to buy something from me unless I request they remove themselves from it. Why is it I can spend half an hour extolling the beauty and benefits of what we sell and end up with nothing, yet simply saying, "Please don't camp out on the bed" results in statements like, "Well, I'll just take this wad of money home then"?

Probably the same reason the only people who say that to me are between 15 and 18 years old.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

The Rodent Not Taken, Or Sometimes Frost Really Burns

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Mon, 02 Apr 2012 02:05:00 +0000

Wee, sleekit, cowrin', tim'rous beastie.

The best laid schemes o' mice and men
Gang aft agley

(from To a Mouse by Robert Burns)

When I esmoused my no plan philosophy, I didn't expect it to affect the Chronicle, but what the hell. Gang aft agley and all that, and just try working that one into your next conversation. I'd guess the scorn really burns for that.

But I will plow on nonetheless, and hay! Why not, though I may wander far afield with furrowed brow and lass of dark hair. Or is that glass of dark ale? Either'd be good for what ales me, else I could take 2 pilseners and call you in the morning.

I was up all night fondly looking at old photographs and feeling quite nostalgic. I finally had to give up around four in the morning so I said "Goodnight sweet prints" and went to bed.

Then today my friend Tim Morris and his best buddy Rich came over with their newest garage sale find, a cow made of tin. Somehow less than an hour later they disappeared and though I looked everywhere I couldn't find them. When the doorbell rang I was quite surprised as I don't have a doorbell, but I answered the door anyway.

A group of five of my friends stood there Timless and unenRiched. "What gives?" I asked.

"We seek them, cow tin, Tim Morris and bestie."

"Well gang, have you searched fore and aft as well as agley?"

"No!" they shouted in unison and turned and left.

This piece of April foolishness was designed to serve as my annual Wilbur Post, more to amuse than to Mr. Edify, of course of course.

As for what I did to Mr. Burns' words, I sincerely apologize, but after all I could spend the rest of my life apologizing to Messrs Merriam and Webster for the Chronicle as a whole.

I won't though.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Caught With My Plans Down

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Fri, 23 Mar 2012 20:06:00 +0000

It's amazing people in that city ever get anything done.

Lots of folks are amazed I ever get anything done. I'll let you in on my secret. I don't get anything done. To me nothing is done until it's all over, and that ain't happened yet. I have no plans to go anywhere. No chance I'm gonna go quietly into that good night. I'm a rebel. Hell, I don't even double space after a period. Talk about living on the edge.

This rebellious streak hasn't always served me well. I recall about thirty years ago when my development was arrested for loitering at a strip club, which shouldn't have surprised me. There's always a lot of busts at a strip club.

They gave him a life sentence so there's no chance he'll grow up. Was a time I thought I was a late bloomer, but that's not the case. For starters I don't have a green thumb. Add to that the fact I don't plant things ever and the only soil activity I have is when I get a sudden fright and you can see where maturing is not on the agenda.

And that's another thing about me. I don't have an agenda. Once when I was real little I remember some agenda confusion, but that worked out all right. Turns out it was Mom's agenda. Since I left home it's been no agenda. I live day to day.I don't plan, because if you don't have a plan then how can it fail? See there? I just gave you a great philosophy for living.

You're welcome.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Just Goes To Shows You

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 18 Mar 2012 20:26:00 +0000

Yeah. Whatever. Sunday and I'm not at work. I am sitting here watching Desperate Housewives. Don't give me that. I have it on good authority (ratings) that many of you do also. Some of you are even guys. Besides as mentioned in a prior post, I'm really only in it for Eva Longoria and Teri Hatcher. Four very good reasons to watch right there.

When I say I don't watch a lot of TV it could sound snobbish but it's true. I mostly watch Netflix. Better picture quality than the behemoth 27" retro POS I watch a couple network shows on, said shows being Hawaii Five-0, Psych and the Eva/ Teri fest.

I hope you're not going to request I turn in my man badge over DH. I won't so don't ask, or I might burst into tears.

If drinking 3 cups of coffee a day helps improve memory, does drinking 3 glasses of milk a day help improve mammary? Apparently I'm still focused on Eva/Teri. I think I should broaden my thinking. Grace Park, Kono on 5-0, she's a broad. I think I can really do this.

Never mind Kono used to be a guy in a past incarnation. That caused some issues at first but I managed to deal. Maybe I should get out and meet some real women. I like real women. They're beautiful. Sometimes they even converse with me. But here's the thing about women: once you let them in they're pretty much there for a very long time. That's why I think the whole TV series idea is a good one. You get a good run then after a few years you get cancelled.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Strange Bedfellows

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 18 Mar 2012 07:04:00 +0000

25 comments on my last post? Woooooweee. Well, okay so ~~some~~ most of them were between me and a couple people who vehemently disagreed with me, but 25!! What I took away from that is politics may not be a good topic for this here humorous blog.

You see all I really tried to do was point out the funny in the Rush/Sandra/Obama/contraceptive debacle and things went fine at first. Until the comments. Then it was a liberal backlash, and that in itself was pretty funny because if anything I am a centrist when I decide to pay attention to politics, which I usually don't. Because most of the time it's not funny.

Oh the candidates and the decisions our leaders make are a laugh riot, but the effects of said clowns and policies are not funny at all.

So then I usually talk about something entirely whimsical like venting my spleen or deciding to go shopping wearing only Pampers and sandals.

I even had to blacklist someone so they cannot comment here anymore. Me performing such an act would have been inconceivable a few years ago.There's usually a pregnant pause when I do things like that, but not always.

Maybe it's my delivery.

Point is that lots of people tend to take lots of things way too seriously and that is definitely <--------- spelled correctly not the way this clown tumbles. Guess what folks? No one gets out of here alive. No one. 100 years from now all this will seem like something out of the past.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

What Did You Call Me?

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 14 Mar 2012 08:26:00 +0000

If you're a fat conservative with a radio show you're not funny. If you're a middle-aged liberal in $1000 dollar suits with an HBO show you are funny.

It's a shame Rush Limbaugh didn't know that before he called Sandra Fluke a slut. But then why would he think he'd get in trouble after Bill Maher called Sarah Palin a c*** and a twat and the Obama-lama-ding-dongs happily accepted his million dollar donation to their Super PAC?

Liberal money talks. Really loud. Conservative money, well....it's a bit quieter. And misogynistic, which we all know is unacceptable. Unacceptable I tell ya. Especially if you're a fat guy with an addiction problem who happens to be conservative.

Well, two out of three ain't bad. But you won't be catching me calling any woman a...well....pick your pejorative. I won't use 'em.

Unless I think they're funny and will cause my readership to increase.

I mean it's not like you can force my sponsors to pull their ads. Unless you'd like to find me some advertisers. There must be some companies out there who'd be proud to sponsor the Chronicle.

I just hope they do it soon or the only ads I run are likely to be for Depends®.

There's still a chance I could interest Smirnoff® in buying some space here. They've certainly taken up enough space in my liver. Don't misunderstand, I am not an alcoholic. I just happen to like martinis now and then. Well, not now, I mean it's 1:17 in the morning and I'm sleepy. But then, now that's a different story entirely. Smirnoff®, Gordon's® and I have had many great thens. With luck, we'll have a few more before my organs pack up and move out.

My organs and I have had some good times too, but I fear I may have given them the wrong idea some years ago, the idea they could head for the great outdoors whenever they wished. It all started that day in July '76 when I vented my spleen.

It was so hot I was actually sweating internally, and I naturally figured a little venting might do me good. Unfortunately my spleen saw a big beautiful world through the vents and has been actively trying to escape ever since.

I heard a rumor my organs were planning a breakout last December, but it never happened. My heart wasn't in it.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

You Talkin' To Me?

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sat, 10 Mar 2012 06:43:00 +0000

I guess it was inevitable.

My coworker Jeff asked, "Do you remember who helped you with this item?"

"Yeah. it was the old dude with glasses." said the young woman.

Guess who she was describing?

Shut the hell up.

Okay I know I'm not a young man anymore. All I need do is look in the mirror for confirmation. All you need do is look at the picture to the left. I don't mind, because it sure in hell beats the alternative. But to be reduced to "old dude with glasses"? Ow...no really. Ow. I think it may have cut even deeper because a pretty young woman said it. Right, so now you know. I'm not just an old dude. I'm a sexist old dude.

I'm at that time in life when I'm not at death's door, but I am on the porch. It's a part of life. I get that. But if people only see a bespectacled old dude, then I may be ready for the slab right now. She was rather petite as well as a terrible judge of age, so I know I'm still young enough to kick her ass.

Which I will do as soon as I finish watching this episode of The Golden Girls.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Common Cents

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Tue, 06 Mar 2012 00:15:00 +0000

Everybody talks about the weather, but nobody ever does anything about it.

Well never having been one to follow the herd, I am not going to talk about the weather.

The Chronicle doesn't have the budget, especially as here in Seattle it would require an overcast of thousands. Nope, not gonna follow the herd. I know you're surprised but you shouldn't be. That kind of behavior is not exactly unherd of around these parts, stranger.

What I will talk about is the state of the economy, which I believe is California, although things may have shifted a bit since last election. The economy is also something everybody talks about but no one ever does anything about. It may be better to think globally and act locally, but as you know, the 1% have been doing global thinking for years in an effort to give away as much of our money as possible and in the process find a good place to hide theirs.

I have also thought globally for most of my life and in a few cases even acted locally.

Julri Waters

The educational system is another gray matter entirely. Far too little has been done about the exodus of intelligent students (not an oxymoron), from the sciences. I agree that this exodus should be reversed, even though I'm not sure how much help sudoxe would actually be. If we want to attract great thinkers back to college and the sciences, we need to train more professors who look like Miss Waters. That's what I mean about thinking globally.

Of course it's also important to consider the women students as well, so you go right ahead and do that. I'll wait. I did that many years ago in the classroom. I spent many happy hours considering women students.

In summation I would like to point out the extremely shabby condition of the weather and the economy and the education in this country. I believe we should first of all stop this nonsense of pennies from heaven. That accounts for a lot of our economic woes right there, and it would go a long way toward improving the weather. Hail is one thing, rain another but when it starts pouring cents from the clouds well I say it's time to open a savings account.

Think how easy saving for a rainy day will be.

As for the lack of love for the sciences on the part of many students, I say we should start inserting subliminal messages on Jersey Shore and MythBusters. I won't go so far as suggesting Snooki become a chemistry professor, but anything that gets her off TV can't be bad.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Seattle Doesn't Need Foreplay

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Wed, 29 Feb 2012 00:39:00 +0000

Maybe I'm not in the right frame of mind to post. Not like that would stop me. Sometimes a crummy mood can produce comedy genius. And sometimes not.

I am now absolutely positive sunshine is necessary to get me off my ass, perk up my 'tude and get me moving and motivated. Yesterday was gorgeous, blue skies and sunny, albeit a bit chilly and I was grinning and bouncing around like Barney on crack.

Today it's back to the perpetual Seattle gloom and I want to kill something. Seattle is like my ex was in the early stages of courtship when I still floated her boat: always wet.

I always suspected I was a sun demon, and now I know for certain. This city truly sucks. Yet, if you talk to people who actually choose to live here, they will rave about its beauty and go on and on about their love of hiking and snow skiing, and walking in the rain and cold weather.

For those of us who don't do any of those things, and who like warmth, well.....tough. Why do I live here? you ask. Okay, you didn't, but let's pretend. I live here because I spent most of the last 10 years carefully dismantling my finances.

Take heart successful ones, you too can reduce yourself to little more than an overdraft charge in life's ledger simply by not giving a damn. Things you want cost too much? Say, "I don't give a damn," and buy them anyway. That's just one of the helpful tips you'll find in my forthcoming book, "I Need A Wallet Like Stevie Wonder Needs A Telescope".

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Flushed With Pride

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Mon, 27 Feb 2012 08:00:00 +0000

It was raining hard in Seattle. I was glad I lived in Phoenix. I was working the day watch in sewercide when the phone rang.

"This is Thursday."

"Ha! Can't fool me, I know it's Friday."

"Not on the interwebb buddy. How can I help you?"

"My toilet just exploded."

"Why don't you call Roto-Pooter?"

"This was no accident. Someone blew john up on purpose."

"So it's another sewercide."

"Why do you call it that?"

"It's my job. I have to work the joke in somewhere."

"Are you serious?"

"Sometimes. What's the address?"

He gave it to me and I ran down to the garage and jumped into my Volt. I sighed, once again aware of the effect of departmental budget cuts. If I ever had to chase down a felon who had a faster car, say a Yugo, then I was in real trouble. But the Volt was environmentally responsible and cheap so there we are. Traffic was light so it only took 2 hours to drive the 6 blocks to the guy's house. I slid to the curb and walked up the porch steps, rang the buzzer and a second later the door was opened by one of the biggest guys I'd ever seen.

"You Thursday?" he growled.

"That's correct sir."

His gaze dropped to the animal I held. "What's that?"

"A badger."

"Your name's Thursday, and you carry a-"

"Uh huh. What about the toilet?"

"Sorry. Someone blew it up."

"I know. That's why I'm here."

"Why?"

"Uh huh."

"Why's the badger here then?"

"Comes with the job."

"Okay. Well, you better come on in then."

I followed the guy inside and to the shambles of a bathroom. There was a gaping hole in the floor surrounded by very small bits of porcelain. "This the remains?" I asked and stooped for a closer look at the ballcock. "We might have to dust this for prints."

"Why would there be prints on that?"

"We have to check everything sir."

"Sounds like a cock and bull story to me."

"Close. Any idea who might do this?"

"Why are you asking me? You think I had something to do with this?"

"Not until now."

"Look you, I don't run around blowing up toilets."

"What do you run around blowing up?"

"Usually small chairs and the occasional ottoman."

"Why?"

"Why not?"

I had to admit he had me there, so I said, "Well sir, I think I have this figured out."

"So fast?"

"Uh huh. Oh, I admit I had some help."

"Huh?"

"That piece of yellow paper nailed to the wall over the sink."

"What about it?"

"It's a note explaining why your neighbor blew up your toilet."

"Why?"

"He got sick of you bragging about it all the time."

"Well, hey! It was a state of the art Commodo Dragon. I mean, I've never had such a great toilet in my life. It had 7 flush modes, and guess what they called the quietest one that used just the perfect amount of water depending on the size of the offering?"

"Offering?" I didn't blame the guy's neighbor. I was getting a little sick myself. But there was no stopping this joker, not even by ignoring his question.

"It's called the royal flush."

I'd suspected as much. I shrugged, and said, "Well that's about all then. I better go talk to the neighbor."

"So another quick and successful sewercide investigation?"

"Uh huh. Helps when there's a sewercide note."

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

The Wheels On The Bus

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 26 Feb 2012 08:00:00 +0000

Pretty interesting day Friday. I left to catch the bus to work and just as I reached the corner, I saw the good ol' 119 speeding toward me. On the opposite side of the street. Okay, I flung my arm into the air and waved maniacally, he slowed down at the stop and I ran to get on board. In the process, I banged my head on the side mirror. I always wondered why they have big signs on the bus telling you not to cross in front of them, and now I know. I also launched my cell phone from my jacket pocket to the street, and if it hadn't made such a loud bang when it hit, we would have driven over it. I scooped it up and got back in the bus.

I was going to try to make a long story short, but I see there's no way that's going to happen, so we arrived at the park & ride just as the next bus I needed was pulling away. My driver was kind enough to honk and the departing bus waited for me. I ran from one to the other, and when I reached the back of the other bus, I stopped running and walked the rest of the way to the door, adding maybe another 10 seconds to the time. As I got on, the driver glared at me and said, "Next time you start running, don't stop."

Really? This I get from a bus driver? I held him up an extra 10 seconds as I walked from the rear to the front, so he chose to get snotty. Look, I know everyone has a job they hate. I get that, I really do. Well, okay most of us have a job we hate. Okay, some of us have a....stop me when I get it right.

That's life pal. If your sorry ass is fed up with people get another job. Oh that's right. We're in an economic slowdown and there are no other jobs. Hey I know. Be as nasty and verbally abusive as possible to the customers whom it's your job to serve. There ya go. Or you can just follow my example, STFU, work your shift then go home and have a drink. Or two. Works every damn time.

Whatever happened to doing what you love? Maybe I'm misjudging Mr. Cranky Balls and he really loves his job, and that's just how he talks to people. You know, maybe he's one of those, "If I wasn't mean to you, you'd think I didn't like you" guys. "Oh, I get it. You're a dick to me because you like me. So how do you treat the people you hate?" I'd be really pissed off if I thought some total asswads were getting candy and invitations to dinner by being complete jerks, while I joke and smile and get crapped on.

This is why as I go along in life, I have less patience for schmucks. I'm not really sure it's wisdom that comes with age, I get the feeling it's closer to nihilism. Or maybe I've got the best of both worlds and I'm a wise nihilist. And if you think that means I spend time studying the longest river in the world, then you just made my list. Yeah, I've got a list. Why? Don't you?

And it has nothing to do with buckets.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

I Got Your Post Right Here

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sat, 25 Feb 2012 18:18:00 +0000

I'm pretty sure by now you know me. Or at least as much of me as you can through my rantings on this blog. And to tell you the truth, that's about as close as I want most of you to get. Except maybe you in the back trying to sidle out of the room. Yeah you, the one with the long brown hair with auburn highlights and the figure reminiscent of, well, actually nothing in my life the past 10 years, but before that when I was a young HumorSmith...hoo boy. Yeah you...come over here. Sit down right in front. Thanks.

I am also on Facebook and Twitter, so yeah, I can be social when I want. I like to share stuff, and some of my favorite shares are courtesy of George Takei, AKA Sulu from Star Trek, who a while ago uncloseted himself because apparently he's been going boldly where this man has never gone for years.

George is very funny. A lot of his pictures completely crack me up. I really liked this one:

I got a couple comments from a fellow FBer. They were very simple and to the point. "Why?" went the first one, and "Not cool" went the second. Okay. So I gather the guy was offended. And he has a dirty mind. That is a dog. Just a dog. Yeah, I know what it looks like, but it's a dog. I offended someone with this. Wow. I keep forgetting how many uptight people there are in this world, so I guess I better change my ways and start posting inoffensive stuff and being less ornery on the Chronicle.

*snort*. You know what a life of worrying about what people think of me has gotten me? Nothing. Bupkus. Nada. Zilch. Fuck all. I don't care if I offend people. I don't care if some get upset at my rants or pictures or general demeanor. I don't even care if you think I'm an asshole, because you're right. Your opinions are as valid as mine, but mine matter to me.

Comedy oughta make you a bit uncomfortable from time to time. It does me. Besides, if there are so many folks who find me offensive, how come the second most popular post of all time on this blog talks about me getting busted for masturbating at work and Nancy Sinatra's Playboy appearance? Hah?

Right. Controversy often leads to traffic. Your visits and comments are very welcome, whether they're pro or anti. At least you're feeling something. Speaking of that, you in the front row with the brown hair with auburn highlights, would you mind staying after the rant?

UPDATE

Don't you love the immediacy of the web? I just noticed the offended one unfriended me. I may be onto something here, a way to separate the real friends from the people who just wanna hang out with me 'cause I'm cool. Who's next? Nothing exposes superficiality like social networks. Easy to make friends, even easier to kick 'em to the curb. This beats breaking up by text by a country mile.

The One With The Strangers

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sun, 19 Feb 2012 17:58:00 +0000

To make a friend be a friend they say. I won't go into the "Who are they" thing, simply because there is no definitive answer. Sometimes they are everyone else, and other times they are one person editing a Wikipedia article.

Anyway, this adage appears to be mostly true regarding the internet. Certainly the more comments I leave and more sites I join, the more comments and followers I get. But let me tell you something: I have learned that many of my long-term followers are nowhere to be found. They have vanished from the net like last night's date after she found out I live with my cat and don't have a car.

Shouldn't friends tell us when they're going away? Did these folks die and no one informed me? Surely death notices are a prerequisite of friendship. I feel so abandoned. It's like the time when I was in 3rd grade and my parents moved and forgot to tell me and when I walked into the house after school one evening there was a group of strangers at the dinner table. Worse, it was "they". "They" said, "Who are you?" , and when I asked what happened to my folks, they acted like I was crazy. I then asked what happened to my friends, because I suddenly realized I'd invited them to eat with us that night and they weren't there either. It was like that Twilight Zone episode where the old lady is awakened every night by mysterious phone calls and it turns out they're coming from her long-dead boyfriend, making calls from the grave via a downed telephone line.

Then they said it. "To make friends you have to be a friend." I did what any rational person would do. I fled.

And I still don't know what happened to those departed followers whose avatars still haunt my followers list.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle

Hit Me

noreply@blogger.com (HumorSmith) — Sat, 18 Feb 2012 19:17:00 +0000

Seriously. What the hell's wrong with you people? If you give a big enough crap to drop by, then drop your damn business card in the follow and Networked Blogs boxes and start following already. No, I'm not offering prizes. No I will not come to your house and clean your windows. What I will do is follow you back unless you're shilling for some goddamn corporation or internet scam site, in which case I'll kick your surfing ass all the way back to DOS. Do I really have to point it out? Life is a numbers game, and you're not helping. Hit me for crap's sake. Jeezzzuuuzz!!

To those folks already following me, bless you and I am eternally sunshiney and spotless. Um, wait...I hated that movie. I never saw it, I just hate the idea of the title. Shiny happy people make my scrotum itch. I like happy, but keep it toned down a bit willya? Don't hit me with that million megawatt smile. At least not until I've had a couple cups of coffee and a good portion of Smirnoff.

Have you known people like that? They seem to just be too happy. I mean happy is great, but you mix that with some exuberance and a happy dance that looks like you've just inhaled a kilo of Colombia's finest, and I start to wonder what you're hiding, or if you've won the lottery, in which case I'll be happy to befriend you for life, even if I can't stand your ass. I have my standards, and they are for sale.

Follow?

Update: 44 hits on this post, and 1 new follow. Maybe I was too polite. Yeah, definitely too polite.

Irony Update: This post is getting more viewers faster than anything I've written in the past year. I'll take it.

Update to the update to the update: From the looks of the latest comment, I may have hurt someone's delicate little feelings. Good to know you're awake out there and thanks for the follow.

Copyright © 2012 thehumorsmithchronicle