schplog

Oscar was Wilde, but Gene is Wilder
Ma was Rainey, but Rilke was Ranier.

Put a cap on it! Don’t you know … hattery will get you nowhere.

I tried beating a ride out of Flannery O’Connor, but assault and battery will get you nowhere.

I tried offering my extension cord to Flannery O’Connor, but charging a battery will get you nowhere.

I tried hitching a ride with Ms. O’Connor, but Flannery will get you nowhere.

I tried hitching a ride with a lumberjack, but Flannelry will get you nowhere.

Barbra Streisand hasn’t been singing much lately. And she certainly hasn’t been acting. Everyone is worried but I say she’s just going through a Funny Phase.

I threw out my back last week, unfortunately, and wasn’t able to make it to my SAT exam. They arranged for me to re-take the test this morning but had to bring in an alternate supervisor who was from Egypt. He took care of giving me the exam and also managed to adjust my back admirably.

You see, he was a Cairo proctor.

Ever noticed how the Swedes never award themselves Nobel prizes? If you were unfortunate enough to have been born in Sweden, the chances of you ever getting a Nobel prize are slim indeed, my friend.

That’s right. They can Swedish it out, but they can’t take it.

What did the rabbi say to the Pope?

Good yontif, pontiff.

My friend Jeff has lost it completely, crazy as a loon. We all thought it was “just a phase”, but it’s actually more like cyclical bouts of madness interspersed with periods of lucidity marked by vague yet disturbing eccentricities.

When he’s up, everything is up. Sure he’s nuts but at least he’s happy that way. It’s all the realm of light winning out over darkness, the Living Spirit, the emanation of the light realm. But then he plunges into darkness, despair and irritating depression. Just as he says in his fits of freakout, “It’s the dualism, man.”

Turns out he’s Manichaean-depressive.

My stepmother is loaded. And we can’t stand her. Sure she’s phenomenally wealthy but she’s also unbearable to be around. She hates when we kiss up to her and she also hates when we don’t kiss up. If we don’t visit we’re screwed and if we do visit we get in trouble if we stay too long. And we’re expected to bring presents and tell her how great she is all the time. Which we only do in the hopes that she’ll leave us some money someday. As she well knows.

Last week she announced that we couldn’t come to dinner because she had a bladder infection. But she wanted us to feel sorry for her and stuff. So I found this special tea online — it’s made with cranberry extract and it’s supposed to help with urinary tract issues — and had sixteen cartons of it delivered to her house. With a get well card saying how great she is and how much we all like her, etc.

Well, she was livid. It totally backfired. She called me up that night and said, “Honey, bladder tea will get you nowhere!”