Small & Big

Geneticists will discover that watermelon ( Citrullus lanatus or C. vulgaris ) and cucumber ( Cucumis sativus L. ) are actually the same thing. This hypothesis is based on careful and repeated observation: when I eat too much watermelon—and boy do I (in summertime, I’m a Watermelonologist)—my watermelon burps are cucumber burps. They taste the same, smell the same, feel the same, sound the same, weigh the same, and they’re just as satisfying. A watermelon burp equals a cucumber burp. Sure, the two eatable, vine-growing plants are in the family Cucurbitaceae, but the Amiglia-matic knows that the cucumber is a variety of watermelon .

Nowhere in the Koran does it say anything like, “in heaven, martyrs receive 72 virgins as a reward for their deed.” If Islam’s holy book did say such a thing—which is doesn’t—it would be a threat, straight from the Tippy-top. The word reward is tricky, see. Remember Mom or Dad’s offer, usually provided as an extra-helpful incentive to straighten up your room—“I’m gonna give you something to cry about!”? If you’d latched onto that give part your young self would have thought, “Oh boy, a surprise gift!” This virgins thing? Just like that. If a person spends eternity with a gaggle of gorgeous virgins, they’re always gonna be virgins. They gotta stay virgins forever and ever, amen. Otherwise, they’re, um, not virgins. The deal isn’t “72 (people who used to be) virgins.” Non-virgins are definitely not part of the deal. Virgins are. The moral of this? Don’t be a martyr.

Up ahead a piece, by the side of the summer road, a dozen children wave and jump and holler. I sneak a look for the tell-tale sign and there it is: “Lemonade 25¢.” Sugar-rush capitalism is cute. Unfortunately I have a policy: never drink lemonade. It gives me a headache. So what should I do when I pass a lemonade stand? They’re so happy and wholesome and probably putting the money towards their 401(k) retirement funds. Do I pretend not to see them hopping up and down on the picnic table, or do I wave while driving by—Hi kids, guess who’s not stopping? Which is less of a guilt generator? Ack! A memory pops: my own lemonade business, the summer before sixth grade. Us kids would do anything we could to get a car to notice us. Anything. The ones that didn’t acknowledge us, well, once, my little brother wee-weed on a passing car as its driver sped by, staring resolutely at the yellow line. Kids, what kids? Pee, what pee? I hit the brakes and wave big.

So here are some oldies but goodies. Summer Dish - A poem How My Cat Is Unlike Stephen Colbert - Setting things straight Public Service Announcement - Special weekend edition Bee School - Here’s the buzz Toilet Training - A helpful print-out to hang over the commode Philosophically, Very Cute - Awww Letter To My Dearest Photographic Picture Taking Device - Isn’t a picture worth a thousand words?

I swam with the dolphins. Well, I swam near dolphins. Or rather, one swam near me. About twenty feet near. My friend Wendy and I were in the salt water just after 6 a.m., full of waiting and hoping. At the teeth-chattering point an hour-and-a-half into it she spots a lone fin. The gray sail of it surfaces, glides slowly past us, disappears. Nature’s big wild stuff: always Bigger and Wilder in person. “Holy crap,” I say, then, “Heh heh, that’s a dolphin fin right?” PBS said what about sharks? Wendy laughs, floating up a wave. “It is.” “Well, okay,” I say. “I don’t hear a ‘Dah-dum... Dah-dum... Dah-dum, dah-dum, dah-dum.’” “Ooh, ooh!” she points. Farther out from shore, past the breaking waves, swims the family pod. Fourteen individuals surface for air, including a bouncy little one. The slick curve of our now-definitely-a-dolphin pokes through the ocean’s surface, a sailboat fin rolling up to touch the sky, then submarines down to sea. Dolphins. And people, in the waters off Virginia

An aphorism is a short proverb that’s almost a cliche. Here are those I hast corrupted. The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach—then out his small intestine, large intestine, and sphincter. Necessity is the mother of Turducken . The only way round is through. That’s how you eat a cupcake. Monkey see, monkey doodle. “Home sweet home” is the beginning of childhood obesity. The early bird catches the worm still passed out on the front lawn, in the bushes, from last night’s party. An apple a day keeps Steve Jobs at bay. United we stand, divided we do our algebra homework. Home is where the heart is. Living room is where the butt is. Never look a gift horse in the mouth. It might be full of noodles. For the backstory on this humor thing, see my previous post, I Can Learn To Be Funny?

Opposites attract. My next assignment, according to the Comedy Writing Workbook, is to oppositize what I last did. I create jokes that are based on being totally unlike a 49-car motorcade; why Important People cannot ride in the rain. I don’t quite understand it either but here goes. - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - A Motorcade Of 49 Cars Again, the back story: Back in 1988 the head of Russia visited New York City. Mikhail Gorbachev visited many tourist attractions and performed official business. Thing is, he travelled NYC in a motorcade of 49 cars. Now, I’m to create a list of 15 things you wouldn’t associate with a motorcade, that aren’t like cars being driven as a unit. List of 15: broken-down car; a school bus; test driving a new car; backing out of the garage; a parking ticket; sneaking around; a mobile home trailer; locking keys in the car; dead battery; a clown car; hitting a tree; renting a van; fresh apple pie; bugs on the windshield; teenager learning to drive. And fi

For my next comedic trick I will attempt to come up with jokes about: A) a motorcade of 49 cars, and B) Important People horseback riding in the rain. Quiet please. I require absolute quiet. This stunt is quite dangerous. (Insert drum roll...) - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - A Motorcade Of 49 Cars The back story: Seems that way back in the 20th Century, in 1988, the head of Russia visited New York City. Mikhail Gorbachev visited many tourist attractions and made official visits. Thing is, he travelled everywhere in NYC with a motorcade of 49 cars. Now, I’m to create a list of 15 concepts that have to do with a motorcade. This’s supposed to trigger joke inventions on my part. First, me list. List of 15: rich man’s subway; designated drivers; going to Dunkin’ Donuts; parade; trying to impress the girls; car sale, buy 1, get 48 free; traffic jam; funeral procession; gas and gas prices; finding parking spots; “I left my wallet in... which car?”; playing follow-the-leader; watching

According to certified genius Marilyn vos Savant (yup, her real last name), we humans have four levels of vocabulary. They go from big to small, from easy to difficult: Reading vocabulary – We’re most capable of this, our largest category of words. To read, we only need to recognize the word and understand its meaning in context. Listening vocabulary – We have two ears for a reason, eh? We can understand the gist of the word spoken in context to the whole story. Speaking vocabulary – This category is challenging. To speak, we’ve got to not only remember the word, without prompting, but put it into appropriate context. Instantly. Writing vocabulary – This category is the smallest: it’s the most difficult for most people. (Personally, I think my writing vocabulary would test larger than my speaking. When talking, I use words like, “gooder” and “what's the word I’m looking for?” When writing, there’s Google.) That’s why we can read about complicated subjects, no problem, but struggle