Small & Big

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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!

Once, at elementary school age, my brother farted into a mason jar and bottled it up tight. We could only hold off opening it for a couple hours but, sadly, there was no stink in it. Grandma suggested we didn’t seal it off quick enough. My brother was so disappointed he never ever farted into a jar again.

Instructions: Work up a fart. Using hands, hold open mason jar to fart’s exit point, preferably outside of the pants (for safety’s sake). Release fart into jar. Quickly clamp on jar lid and screw it down tightly. Congratulations! You have captured a fart pet of your very own and have provided it with a loving home. A good, strong, odoriferous fart has an unlimited life expectancy and shelf-life, so you two can hope to spend many happy years together, doing whatever.

“Eula-Beulah was prone to farts—the kind that are both loud and smelly. Sometimes when she was so afflicted, she would throw me on the couch, drop her wool-skirted butt on my face, and let loose. ‘Pow!’ she’d cry in high glee. It was like being buried in marsh-gas fireworks. I remember the dark, the sense that I was suffocating, and I remember laughing. Because, while what was happening was sort of horrible, it was also sort of funny. In many ways, Eula-Beulah prepared me for literary criticism.” —Stephen King, writing in his book On Writing about being fourish-years old In my day we reverently referred to that particular style of farting as The Dutch Oven: cover, gas, contain, laugh. When two people are laughing together, how can they not connect? Of course, building a good-humor bond depends somewhat on the intensity of odors passed down through the digestive tract to fog up the face. Friendship has a limit and it is fava beans.

Time passes, in achingly long moments, slowed to a stand-still it pauses, sighs, pinches off a fluff of lint, waits to compute    out        e a c h                s  e  c  o  n  d  , triple-checking the moment for accuracy, in duplicate carbon copy, then holds a meeting, a final tally, a nap (dreaming on the prudent drying of brittle-brown porcelain saucers), followed by a wake-up herbal tea, sweetened with slow honey, and, Pardon me, might you have any Wite-Out I could borrow?, and then—finally— finally — Time painstakingly announces that single moment, on the clock: The one hun-dred nine-ty sev-en mil-lion, four hun-dred sev-en-ty eight thou-sand, six hun-dred and nine-ty ninth sec-ond. Only then does it proceed to repeat the entire cycle, for the next second in line, o...

This came about after hearing cartoonist Drew Dernavich ( website ) speak. He does the scratchboard New Yorker cartoons signed “Dd” and is super nice and funny. He mentioned that the infamous New Yorker caption contest averages 9,000 entries per week, all read and evaluated by one single person. (Crazy, I know. City folk.) Their database automagically filters out entries containing “tastes like chicken.” My non-existent database does not.

The rancid garbage with its expired buttermilk cartons and brown Q-Tips I can understand. But, tearing through plastic bags to get at a single dulled chain-saw chain, to pull it round the yard backwards, now forwards, now back again, and leave it as a graceful industrial art installation by the garage door? Can a mere human fathom the mind of the terrier? (Godzilla dog, Small and Big’s Vice President of External Affairs, also offers Drinking Tips . Of course.)

Isn’t it interesting that when you combine dense and city , you get density ? Also, isn’t it interesting that if you live in the city and the smelly socks on your floor are moving, chances are it isn’t a sock puppet show, it’s vermin.

Found this offer on The Funny Pages website . You can put their daily family-safe comic on your blog or website... for FREE. Plus, there are caption contests to enter! The strip’s called “The Joke’s On You, by Phil Ryder and You.” See, the name reflects that he draws the cartoon and whatever caption is chosen by readers goes on it. Maybe yours. Phil’s got a sweet thing going: if the cartoon’s not funny guess who’s fault it is? The above image changes daily so pop back to this page every 24 hours for the remainder of your life and see it. It would mean a lot to me.

Why for art I displaying a silver, no, a platinum star? Soccer Mom picked my caption for her caption contest. You know what they’ve always said about me: Wherever there’s a naked man on a unicycle I’ll be there. Check it. My winning caption that is. Thanks, Soccer Momsie!

Can teeth swell? Mine feel smushed together, like they’re filled with Twinkies. Hard on the outside, soft and creamy on the in. Or like a Great White’s smile, overcrowded and toothy. Sharks got 3,000 teeth that’re always getting janked out during killing and feeding frenzies, then growing back in. No wonder Jaws is grumpy. Most fearsome creature on the planet? Twinkie shark. Grrrrrrr. You, how’re your teeth doing? Please don’t be a vampire.

What do grocery shopping and song writing have in common? Don’t do either while hungry. Here’s an exclusive first draft of their hit song. Only at Small & Big, baby. “Junk On Fire,” by Kings of Leon One chef too many Crowds up the place You see I’m cooking I’m cooking All this smokin’ and Pork chops all on sale ’Cuz of a coupon Coupon You Your junk is on fire Sunday at the table The family they pray Real fast like they’re starving They’re starving Backing up so slow Tushie to stove Smells like you’re cooking You’re cooking You Your junk is on fire Confumed Even your attire Butt red as a clown’s Squeaking nose Hot from the circus Circus Six o’clock dinner bell Six o’clock we eat Oh smells of rare rump roast Rare rump roast Rare rump roast You Your junk is on fire You Your junk is on fire Confumed Even your attire And you Your junk is on fire Confumed E...

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