A Can O' Beans

Two days before payday. So ... a can of pork and beans for lunch. The pork is but a vain hope in a heap of beans. How do they get away with that lie, year after year? There's so little pork in that tin can, it could almost pass a Kosher inspection.

Contemplating the bean can, thinking about the inherent humor in such a simple thing.

Imagine a hiker moseying into his campsite, tossing down his pack and pitching his tent. Meanwhile, a furry paw reaches from a bush and borrows the pack for a moment, then tosses it back. Camper fails to notice. Camper sits on a rock and extricates from the pack a can of beans. Reaches in again for the can opener. No can opener.

Goes berserk. Dumps out the pack. Searches the campsite. Then makes several attempts to open the can, using a fork, a stick, a rock, a hammer, etc.

Finally gives up in a rage and throws the can against a tree. It of course bounces back and knocks him out cold.

At which point we see a very dignified bear stride into the campsite and say:

"Man, I thought he would NEVER give up."

The bear then picks up the can of beans and calmly opens it with the can opener that he borrowed earlier from the camper's pack. Then sits on the rock and enjoys his meal.

Dawn makes me laugh

You simply must visit Dawn (now at www.dawnsdoghouse.com/b2evolution/index.php) and read about Her devious dog and an escapade with a sweet potato. It's the funniest thing I've read in ages.

First, be sure that you are sitting down, have recently emptied your bladder and are not in a workspace cubicle where chortles, chuckles and belly-laughs might get your fired.

Today's blog-peek: Susan

Ms. Susan (Heart in San Francisco) recently theorized that "Saturday Night is Wasted on the Married."

If, upon reading that post, your sides don't hurt or you haven't come dangerously close to wetting your pants or you haven't even chuckled or chortled, let alone snickered, guffawed, belly-laughed, giggled or tee-heed, you might wish to see a pyschologist about your humor-impairment problem.

The picture here is Susan's icon. We're not specifically informed whether She is the one with the gnarly hands or the one with the pretty shoes. I'm betting on the latter.

Quick lunchtime post -- Somebody being delightful

Somebody who is not Mischievous Melanie got caught trying to break a window pane with Her nose.

The dying art of humor

A hundred years ago or so, you could laugh at anyone or anything -- a Jewish person, an African-American, a "dwarf," an epileptic, etc.

Yes, we know that wasn't good. Not good at all. Hurtful, hateful and wrong.

Today, however, we have gone so far overboard, we have become so hypersensitive, that I'm afraid some trendy locale will soon pass a law against laughing about anything at all.

I was having a discussion on a certain webgroup the other day about a certain religious holiday. I was asked whether I was relying upon a secular calendar or one provided by Religion XYZ.

Trying to lighten the situation, I noted that my calendar was a secular production and that it featured a nice picture of a tropical frog. Frogs, I stated, are not kosher but they are also non-denominational.

Obviously, it was a joke. An attempt at breaking tension. At least, I thought the joke was obvious. But I was promptly taken to task on the specifics of kosher, etc., etc., by someone so obviously humor-impaired as to probably have cobwebs wrapped around his/her smile.

People like that win no friends for their viewpoints. And they certainly can't be any fun to be around.