Hey, it IS the Fourth of July . . .
It’s 1607 local (how appropriate for a Virginian?) on the Fourth of July and I’m sitting here at my extraordinarily paper-encrusted desk, recovering from a record-setting deadline performance.
Hopefully Pamela hasn’t been carried off along some branch of America’s western watershed on her July 4th weekend excursion.
And Vicus, who may well be airborne if not back in the Air Defense of Great Britain zone (we went to the Tower, which was quite sinister, and then to Heathrow, named after a prime minister – apologies to Benny Hill), I apologize for the weak beer and the pseudo-vegetarian bread wraps that pass for vegetarian fare in our fast-food establishments. But to make you jealous, I had fried squash, mushrooms, onions and bread crumbs along with some DEE-LISH garden salad greens for dinner last night.
I haven’t had any time to write anything suitably awe-inspiring or intellectually sublime in the last few weeks as we get ready to transition to a new printing press and late 20th-century computer technology. Come to think of it, maybe I never have written anything of that weight, although I thought the rat-killing limerick I wrote for Cherrypie last month had its own smarmy charm . . .
In a week and two days, I shall be chest-deep in the Virginia Little League baseball championships and wishing I had a cricket bat as a self-defense weapon. I do have to say, however, that I’ll be thinking cheerily about Robert deNiro’s discourse on baseball from “The Untouchables” as I try to find a parking place at work for two weeks. So if anyone gives me a line about team spirit , please excuse the sinister grin.
I must give Martha her due for an absolutely delightful Paul and Heather joke, the text of which I’ll reproduce here:
A journalist interviews Sir Paul McCartney:
"So, Sir Paul, do you think that you will ever
go down on one knee again?"
Sir Paul: "I'd prefer it if you called her Heather"
And since it just bubbled to the surface of my frontal lobe, an old yet still useful little joke:
“It’s a shame that he fell backward on that picket fence.”
“Rectum?”
“Wrecked him? It damn near killed him!”
Enjoy the rest of your Fourth.
Hopefully Pamela hasn’t been carried off along some branch of America’s western watershed on her July 4th weekend excursion.
And Vicus, who may well be airborne if not back in the Air Defense of Great Britain zone (we went to the Tower, which was quite sinister, and then to Heathrow, named after a prime minister – apologies to Benny Hill), I apologize for the weak beer and the pseudo-vegetarian bread wraps that pass for vegetarian fare in our fast-food establishments. But to make you jealous, I had fried squash, mushrooms, onions and bread crumbs along with some DEE-LISH garden salad greens for dinner last night.
I haven’t had any time to write anything suitably awe-inspiring or intellectually sublime in the last few weeks as we get ready to transition to a new printing press and late 20th-century computer technology. Come to think of it, maybe I never have written anything of that weight, although I thought the rat-killing limerick I wrote for Cherrypie last month had its own smarmy charm . . .
In a week and two days, I shall be chest-deep in the Virginia Little League baseball championships and wishing I had a cricket bat as a self-defense weapon. I do have to say, however, that I’ll be thinking cheerily about Robert deNiro’s discourse on baseball from “The Untouchables” as I try to find a parking place at work for two weeks. So if anyone gives me a line about team spirit , please excuse the sinister grin.
I must give Martha her due for an absolutely delightful Paul and Heather joke, the text of which I’ll reproduce here:
A journalist interviews Sir Paul McCartney:
"So, Sir Paul, do you think that you will ever
go down on one knee again?"
Sir Paul: "I'd prefer it if you called her Heather"
And since it just bubbled to the surface of my frontal lobe, an old yet still useful little joke:
“It’s a shame that he fell backward on that picket fence.”
“Rectum?”
“Wrecked him? It damn near killed him!”
Enjoy the rest of your Fourth.
posted by Frontier Editor at 16:41
11 Comments:
GROAN! Those are pretty awful. But I laughed anyway! Happy Independence Day!
I have not noticed any aircraft carriers on Lake Okanagan, so it looks like another year has passed without an invasion. Happy 4th! It is for us.
And you're a 43 year old blogger? No wonder you're still a Virginian.
Just remember, the only two aicraft carriers we sailed on any lake bordering Canada were paddlewheelers >:B^D
Thank you Miss C - I quit telling jokes for humor years ago when I found it was funnier when they inflicted pain
Thank heavens I never actually made it into the river except for a brief sitting down on an inner tube.
I am alive and well and I believe that tomorrow we are leaving Orem Utah and heading to Las Vegas where we will meet the other half of my parenting team. I'm ready to pass the torch --er, I mean kids, off to him. More than ready.
You didn't wrap them in rags and soak them in kerosene again, did you?
Why, how festive! Howcum when I suggest making Molitov Yankees I always get shut down?
Did you hear about Mark Inglis? First double amputee to make it to the top of Everest (he is from NZ, and he climbed it about a month ago).
Except he didn't really make it to the top, he was a couple of feet short.
hahahhahahhahha. I can't tell this joke in New Zealand.
Martha - want me to tell it here?
Rain - because it's spelled Molotov. But don't worry - I used to get dirty look when I talked about Stalin organs
I thought your limerick was pretty neat too x
Awww, thanks :8^J
Post a Comment
<< Home