Matinee Idle (Vol. 1, No. 2)

A midday diversion for you . . .  Continue reading “Matinee Idle (Vol. 1, No. 2)”

Advertisements

Why did Mike drop the 50-cent piece down through the outhouse hole?

Life as we know it (responsorial)
Plus: A joke for today (and many yesterdays)

The Clover Kicker has returned (after an absence of more than a decade!): “Have enjoyed the recent outhouse/indoor-plumbing stories.

Continue reading “Why did Mike drop the 50-cent piece down through the outhouse hole?”

Maybe they thought “BOGO” means “Bop Over, Get One”!

Unclear on the concept

The Grand Duchess of Grand Avenue: “Subject: You’ve got to be kidding me!

“Yesterday I was waiting at McDonald’s for my order to come out and witnessed two young men ordering — or attempting to.

Continue reading “Maybe they thought “BOGO” means “Bop Over, Get One”!”

What a New Year sounded like: “squeaking, honking, clanging, banging, and shouting ‘Happy New Year!’ to the entire neighborhood.”

The Permanent Family Record
Auld Lang Syne Division

Cindybindy of Woodbury writes: “When this time of year rolls around, I am reminded of the many wonderful New Year’s Eves I spent at my grandparents’ house when I was a child.

Continue reading “What a New Year sounded like: “squeaking, honking, clanging, banging, and shouting ‘Happy New Year!’ to the entire neighborhood.””

“With the winter sun streaming through the windows, I feel cloistered and part of a brotherhood, because books themselves have a friendly feel about them.”

Life as we know it
Used-book Store Division

Tim Torkildson writes: “Dinkytown, by the University of Minnesota campus, had a plentitude of used-book stores when I was a lackbeard.

“On Saturdays and school holidays, I spelunked down amidst the flyblown stacks for abandoned literary geodes. I found them, too: such glittering paperback treasures as ‘Winston Churchill: An Informal Study of Greatness,’ by Robert Lewis Taylor, and the whimsical ‘Three Men in a Boat,’ by Jerome K. Jerome. I paid a quarter for each of those jewels and read them so avidly that the brown and brittle pages fluttered down upon my bedroom carpet like October leaves. No matter; I had gleaned enough wild and weird fancies from them, and others like them, to last me a lifetime.

Continue reading ““With the winter sun streaming through the windows, I feel cloistered and part of a brotherhood, because books themselves have a friendly feel about them.””