Psalms
We are the people he watches over, the sheep under his car.
Exodus
Thou shall not make for yourself a gravy image.
Luke
But the angle said to them, “Do not be Alfred.”
From the folks at BlueQ. Great spellers.
Pepé Le Pew voice:
“You know, eet eez possible to be too attractive.”
“Permit me to introduce myself, I am your new lover.”
“You are my peanut. I am your brittle.”
(Thanks, Cute Overload.)
Thanks Facebook, with your Michael Jackson (right) and unnamed caucasianoid (left) siamese twins, you’re officially even creepier than this.
Focus your deep, penetrating concentration on the 1:04 through 1:16 minute mark. Near as I can piece it together Mason the tube sock puppet has this to say about Small & Big:
“And __________ that rooster lady, you know, she’s got that small, big, medium, some kind of blog, ___________ cartoons, and to ______ money she, ah, likes to draw pictures of stuff, of cat litter boxes, and I saw on there a month ____ on there a toupee, some kind of Zen man.”
This is historical: Small & Big’s first known video reference, and on MasonMania. The Rooster Lady detects no cuss words.
(Mason previously appeared in Why You Should Keep Yourself Far, Far Away From Coffee.)
Looking for the Whole World Toilet Paper Museum and Society? Here you go.
Many say you can’t ever analyze humor because, like dissecting a frog, “You may learn a bit about it, but the thing dies in the process.” Frogwash. We do well to contemplate and understand the world around us, especially the stuff we like, especially the fun stuff. Gene Perret has a unique take on it in his book, “How to Write & Sell Your Sense of Humor
.” Gene writes:
I define a sense of humor as the following three abilities:
a) to see things as they are
b) to recognize things as they are
c) to accept things as they are.
For example...
When would I not be able to accept jokes about balding? First of all if I weren’t aware of it. Many people begin thinning at the back of the crown and don’t even know it’s happening. If you joke about losing their hair to these folks, they look at you as if you’re crazy.
Second, if they fail to recognize they are losing their hair. I was convinced for years that by combing my hair a different way, no one would notice a few strands had departed. If anyone had joked about it during those years, I would have been offended rather than amused because it would have been proof that my ploy wasn't working.
Third, some of us fail to accept it, and jokes about our balding pates are not well received at all.
He adds,
It’s especially important to be aware of these three abilities in speaking to audiences, because not all audiences have a sense of humor about all topics. You must know what they see, recognize, and accept before kidding them.
What do you think?
For the backstory on this humor thing, see my previous post, I Can Learn To Be Funny?
A Tom Swiftie is a short joke that uses a slightly different double meaning for an adverb. I found this exercise fun, and not as hard as it might seem. It’s an enjoyable way to expand your humor abilities, from Gene Perret’s book, “How to Write & Sell Your Sense of Humor.” The one-liner must finish with a word ending in -ly, and that final word can be the real use, a new definition, or a brand new made-up word. You’ll see. Read on, and see how I spent Sunday night. What’s in bold is what I like best.
- “I saw a UFO,” he cried spacily.
- “This deodorant ain’t working,” the teen sniffed strongly.
- “Gasp,” his mom whispered faintly.
- “Students, you have 10 minutes to complete this exam,” the teacher said testily.
- “I got my barber’s license!” he said cuttingly.
- “I wonder what it’s like to race the Iditarod,” Lady said doggedly.
- “Cold,” purred Whiskers cattily.
- “My vein doctor says I’m a special case,” Vivian said vainly.
- “I’ve found my ideal model,” the artist mused.
- “Oh that? It’s in the haystack,” he pointed needily.
- “I read your notes,” he sang musically.
- “So I heard,” she said eerily.
- “That’s not allowed,” the tattle-tale told aloudly.
- “Anyone seen my lungs?” he asked breathlessly.
- “I’m never early,” Joe said belatedly.
- “Me neither,” Joe Jr. said lately.
- “Let’s neck,” offered Giraffe longingly.
- “Sorry, I’m stuck in here,” growled Lion cagily.
- “I like a cushy seat,” said Grampa softly.
- “Let’s have another slice of pie then,” Gramma said fatly.
- “I believe in mythical creatures,” Diane said controllingly.
- “How about talking books?” the dictionary asked readily.
- “And tiny winged women?” asked Tinkerbell fairyly.
- “I’m starching laundry,” Dad said ironically.
- “If anyone wants me I’ll be at Marker Market,” Mark said markedly.
- “Is anyone else full of hot air?” the red balloon asked highly.
- “Gravity is hard,” Rock heaved heavily.
- “Oh joy, time for a filibuster,” the Senator puffed airily.
- “I’ll never get to wear a bra,” the girl stated flatly.
- “Don’t make mountains out of molehills,” Aunt Maybelle insisted plainly.
- “Let’s slice up that hot pizza,” Kalvin offered peacefully.
- “I’m against that and my people will fight your pizza to the death,” Jane threatened warfully.
- “I’ve driven too far today,” the trucker said tiredly.
- “And I’ve eaten too much broccoli and beans,” her husband fumed gasily.
- “I’m sorry Dave, I’m afraid I can’t do that,” Hal said robotically.
- “Nobody’s faster’n me,” Rabbit gushed quickly.
- “So your pretty wife tells me,” Turtle put out slowly.
- “I wish I’d brought my flashlight,” Joe said delightedly.
- “Then we’d be enlightened,” Carl said lightly.
- “May I be of help?” Moon asked brightly.
- “I don’t see your point,” he said blindly.
- “Because it’s the proper suit to wear on my birthday,” said the nudist openly.
- “Please put on these pants,” his mom whispered close-mouthedly.
- “How’ll they know it’s my birthday?” he asked happily.
- “I’m building this for my girlfriend, using only the best sticks and bits,” Mr. Bluebird said honestly.
- “Isn’t he handsome,” Ladybird twittered cheaply.
- “But I came in last place,” Michael said finally.
- “They call me the Ice Queen,” she cracked coldly.
- “So? They call me the Stinky Bishop,” he said cheesily.
- “But I’m actually a kind of Cheddar,” he added sharply.
- “Anyone else for a slice?” she asked cuttingly.
- “Make this font stand out more,” the typographer said boldly.
- “What if you were a ballerina like me?” she posed gracefully.
- “Why don’t you climb up and see me sometime,” Mae West blinked staringly.
- “I prefer not to fly. I’ll stay here on the ground, thank you,” Clay insisted earthily.
- “Your days are numbered,” the insurance adjuster added mathematically.
- “Vroom. I’m a 12-cylinder speedster,” the car said mechanically.
- “I’m fired?” Cathy asked hotly.
- “Let’s build another peat fire,” Glen said repeatedly.
- “You two, hurry up and make me a grandmother,” Ma ordered grandly.
- “I have a monopoly on winning Monopoly,” she said gamely.
- “Bankers ruined all my investments,” retirees and widows cried poorly.
- “And our company won’t give us the retirements we were promised,” they added again tirelessly.
- “Retirement? A lot can change in 40 years,” management insisted amorally.
- “I’m a cardiologist, a heart doctor,” she offered lovingly.
- “I could drink a twelfth glass of water,” Flo sloshed drunkinly.
- “And make it a double,” she said wetly.
- “Why? Why, oh why, oh why? Why why why why-why? Why?” the Riddler asked questionly.
- “Let’s do the teeter-totter, the swings, the slide, the merry-go-round, and dodgeball,” Kylie panted playfully.
- “No fun allowed while you’re on the clock,” her supervisor ordered bossily.
- “Anyone up for a double-chocolate donut?” Max mouthed gnawingly.
- “I could eat a whole dozen Munchkins,” Emma said holily.
- “Oh God,” he swore prayerfully.
- “I’m really ticked off,” Dad hollered frantically.
- “That the dog’s covered in ticks,” he added practically.
- “More buttercreme frosting,” the decorator dripped icily.
- “I seem to have died,” he said lifelessly.
- “Seven days,” she started weakly.
- “I’m pretty sure it’s 365,” he insisted yearly.
- “We are identical twins,” the boys said reflectively.
- “I ate a dentist,” the shark said bitingly.
- “I’ve lost ballast,” the hot air balloon shot upwardly.
- “We’ll give ourselves raises,” managers promised supportively.
- “That’s the last time I exit a window pane,” the saloon cowboy promised painfully.
- “I made fire from flint and a stick,” the Cub Scout said strikingly.
- “Five. Six. Seven,” she said measuredly.
- “To get to the other side,” he joked unfunnily.
- “For two years and 16 months I was lost in the desert,” Lawrence said dryly.
- “I’m allergic to wool,” the shepherd bleated sheepishly.
- “I lost the forest for the tree,” the lumberjack cut woodenly.
- “Ticket prices are cruel,” the theater-goer cried movingly.
- “And the films, so loud we bring earplugs,” the audience agreed earfully.
- “Wait, I’m in the hospital,” she said patiently.
- “Go get ’em!” the coach urged forgetfully.
- “Finally, a clean window,” Dad said clearly.
- “This jelly requires additional sugar,” Katrina said tartly.
- “That doesn’t count,” the numerologist insisted numbly.
- “I know my butt looks big in these pants,” I said assuredly.
- “You have the right to remain silent,” the officer began arrestingly.
- “I found a dime,” the boy cried centennially.
- “I’ll put just one more,” she typed additionally.
If you read all these you get a gold star.
For the backstory on this humor thing, see my previous post, I Can Learn To Be Funny?
(This is totally the for-real photograph BJ’s Wholesale Club used to market to me. Click here for the Grade A proof. Why, BJ’s, why?)
I wish the Reddit picture didn’t say “get this shirt” because that’s not part of the pondering but it does so you might as well get this shirt.
When I was a kid you could rent films from the local library. Actual film, on a spool. My brother got Disney’s Dumbo and we’d watch it regular, see Dumbo take flight with those gigantic ears, and then rewind the film by watching it backwards. We’d enjoy it forward, backward, forward, backward, forward, backward. You get the idea. I’m not sure how that effected my psyche but even today I credit that experience, along with my brother and Disney, with my ability to fly.
My pain tolerance is so low that I needed a shot of novocaine to get fitted for glasses.
—Woody Allen, paraphrased
Bernie S. Siegel, M.D., writes in his book “Love, Medicine & Miracles&rdquo that muscle relaxation and mental anxiety cannot coexist, no matter how hard you try:
There are sound scientific reasons why we call robust, unrestrained laughter “hearty.” It produces complete, relaxed action of the diaphragm, exercising the lungs, increasing the blood’s oxygen level, and gently toning the entire cardiovascular system. Norman Cousins termed it “internal jogging” and others have likened it to a deep massage... After the laughter, all the muscles are relaxed, including the heart—the pulse rate and blood pressure temporarily decline. Physiologists have found that muscle relaxation and anxiety cannot exist together, and the relaxation response after a good laugh has been measured as lasting as long as 45 minutes.Ah haha hah ha ho ho hoooo! Hah hah ha ah hahahahaha! Heh heheheh haha ha! Oh! Oh! Oh. (Wipe eyes.) Phew.*
Have you heard of
Laughter Yoga International’s
Laughing Clubs? According to them, even fake laughing helps the ol’ carcass.
Ah hah. Ah hah. Ha.**
* Totally-for-real laughing
** Fake laughing
I like how I have eyelashes. This took Bill White all of two minutes to draw, including the signature I ordered him to add, for to embarrass him. And the real thing is, like, three feet high. Seriously. Which makes my fivehead 100% to scale.
Check out Bill’s blog here, at BWHITECARTOONS. It’s entertaining. And the lines he draws are so perfect they look to be done in Adobe Illustrator. But no, he’s an illustrator who doesn’t need Illustrator. No way!, you exclaim. Yes way, I say, I have seen it with my own squinty lookers.
(See, blogging can accomplish the same inane stuff as Twitter.)
Because I’ve looked everywhere. Until I get my hands on that camera cord, you know, the black one that hooks up to the computer, you’ll have to make do with these:
UPDATE:
Breaking news! This just in... Has the cord been sighted?
A few weeks ago I learned to paint. With color. The reason? I took a cartooning course with Mat Brown (website), of Building #19 fame. It was a blast! If you love humor, doodling, illustrating, and/or fine art, I highly recommend you take a cartooning class, any cartooning class. When you’re just having fun, you’re bound to learn, and laugh, a lot. Pardon the strong language but, Heck, isn’t humor always the best way to learn?
Related Small & Big amusings:
Oh, The Places You’ll Go (At Building #19)
15 Things I Learned At Art School
Nope, twit is to Twitter as tweet is to Tweeter.
How come when you use Twitter you’re said to be posting tweets? Ahem, wouldn’t that be (see above)? And doesn’t that make six million people, plus myself, twits?
The criteria used by Trina Robbins in her book, “A Century of Women Cartoonists,” is: “My definition: it’s a comic if it includes even one of the following—two or more panels, continuity, or speech balloons inside the panel.” I was not aware of the distinction. So, like, most of the stuff in The New Yorker would be cartoons, while Sunday newspapers carry comic strips.
Here is a handy-dandy chart so’s I can remember:
Do you think, judging by my work above, that I’m better at comics or at cartoons? I’d very much appreciate knowing what you think. Please comment!
You decide.
Thoughts to consider whilst deciding:
- Nothing says hemorrhoid quite like a volcano-tsunami. What other Earth changes might the illustrator consider and why?
- One can sing so loud that hemorrhoids pop out. It’s in the movie “Anvil! The Story of Anvil.”
- Hemorrhoid Helper has little in common with Hamburger Helper. How are they different? Similar? How would co-branding create market synergy?
Aunty Henrietta’s been busy: she’s got a website and blog too.
It started with a jar of savory chocolate-laced peanut butter. It ended as above. Lessons learned: 1) chocolate peanut butter restricts typing; 2) chocolate peanut butter looks not unlike lumpy turd (#2, get it?); 3) tastebuds are little dictators.
If you have a peanut butter allergy this post is possibly life threatening.
(Click it to bigify.)
(Click it to bigify.)
I hear this often. Too bad the cut-off age for smoke-jumpers, of the dangerous jump-out-of-the-airplane-and-into-the-forest-fire sort, is 35. Heh heh.
Reason #3,756: Hand Puppetry
(Click the right arrow to begin. It’s like 47 seconds long.)
From Mason Mania, home of the missing sock.
- Soundtrack to Disney’s feature length animation, “101 Dalmations,” played on my red portable record player/briefcase — Cruella De Vil rocked. The chorus sings how she made her husband take her last name. What a woman! Too bad about her puppy-skin coat fetish. (And that fat ugly husband.)
- Debbie Boone’s “You Light Up My Life” — For a third grader who enjoyed singing herself to sleep with sad tunes like “Leaving On a Jet Plane” and “The Wreck of the Edmund Fitzgerald,” this was I-T, in feathered hair.
- My younger brother’s musical selections — These included classics by Donald Duck, Alvin & the Chipmunks, and Wonder Woman’s theme song. I admired his musical maturity and confidence, especially with the 8-track tapes.
- Cory Hart, “Boy In the Box” — He wore sunglasses at night.
- ABC, “How To Be a Zillionaire” — How do I?
- That K-Tel one with “My Boyfriend’s Back,” “Leader of the Pack,” and “It’s My Party (and I’ll Cry If I Want To)” on it — I find my niche! Alas, I was born 20 years too late for my niche.
- The B-52’s, “The B-52’s” — Bouffant rock lobster dancing joy.
- Vintage 1980s The Cure — Long live teenage depression.
- Roxy Music something or other
- That first Enya CD
- Smithsonian recordings of early American jazz — Now that’s music. (Modern jazz: you suck.)
- Various trance and electronica
- Coldplay, “Parachutes”
- Ruben González, “Introducing... Ruben González” — The Buena Vista Social Club pianist puts music between the notes, right in the silences, and has the wherewithal for red slacks.
- Jonathan Richman everything — “She don’t act like no bad breakfast cereal, waitin’ to wilt in the milk,” woe, woe, woe.
There was also the decades-long forced Classical music listening administered by the Parental Unit, of which we must never, ever speak.
Ported over from Facebook.
(Click it to bigify.)
Last Sunday’s finding put escargot into my brain. So here’s my try at snail humor or hockey humor or, Oh man I’d love to drive a Zamboni, wouldn’t you? Especially on a hot summer’s day when just saying the word “ice” provides cooling relief. Ahhh.
Ever jad a dau tjat fe;t ;ole upi were kist pme leu pff. pme set pf fomgers pver. amd ;ofe jad mp De;ete leu Sogm/ We;;. jere we are/
Early Sunday morning I hastily tore apart my Boston Globe to get at the comics—Foxtrot, it’s been too long—only to find these two, printed one on top of the other:
Rhymes With Orange and F Minus share a few similarities, eh? Two one-panel snail cartoons, two snails each, within a landscape where only one snail speaketh. Not only that but the left snails are in pretty much the exact same place. Later that afternoon, in real life, somewhere, somehow, an escargot sneezed.
(Here’s my try at drawing a snail cartoon.)
(Click it to bigify.)
(Click it to biggerify.)
Think Cesar Millan’s ever seen an ugly dog? Have you seen one? Me neither. Even the hairless ones and the ones that look like scary bears. People love, love, love dogs, almost as much as cats. So if you’ve ever heard you’re ugly as a dog (does anyone still say that?), consider it a compliment. Arf!
A few weeks ago I learned to paint. With color. The reason? I took a cartooning course with Mat Brown (website), of Building #19 fame. It was a blast! If you love humor, doodling, illustrating, and/or fine art, I highly recommend you take a cartooning class, any cartooning class. When you’re just having fun, you’re bound to learn, and laugh, a lot. Pardon the strong language but, Heck, isn’t humor always the best way to learn? 
Nope, twit is to Twitter as tweet is to Tweeter.
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