Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category

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A New Uniform For A New Department

Wednesday, August 24th, 2011

As you may or may not know, as of July 1, 2011, the Public Works Department of the City of Tulsa ceased to exist, having been split into three departments – Water and Wastewater, Streets and Stormwater (where the Traffic folk like yours truly landed), and Engineering Services.  Given that we are new departments, we are in need of new uniforms, right? 

My buddy Rick was at Wal-Mart yesterday, spotted this shirt, and we are nominating it as the official new uniform of the City of Tulsa Streets and Stormwater Department-

 

It just fits so well, especially for us Traffic folk, as lately it seems that all we do is handle “emergencies” that really aren’t, while shoving everything else we are doing into some dusty closet somewhere to be forgotten in order to put out the fire.

Posted in Aaarrgh, Humor, Tulsa | No Comments »

What Is God’s Credit Score?

Friday, June 17th, 2011

In beautiful Haskell, Oklahoma, is “The Church Purchased By Christ”.  No, really….

See?  You thought I was kidding, didn’t you?

This, of course, leads to a lot of questions.  Did Christ pay cash or get a loan?  If He paid cash, where did He get the money?  Did He start out with, say, one twenty, say a prayer, and then suddenly his twenty multiplied?  If He got a loan, who did He use as references – the Father and Holy Spirit?  What did He put as his employment and annual income?  What is His credit score?  If I look up the deed in the Muskogee County records, will it be under Christ, Jesus?

Why would Christ buy a dumpy church with bars on it in Haskell; why wouldn’t He buy, say, Notre Dame?  Why only that church; wouldn’t He want to buy them all?

Posted in Aaarrgh, Humor, Oklahoma, Religion | No Comments »

Chucky Lives!

Wednesday, May 18th, 2011

We are in the process of vacating our existing leaning building built on top of a landfill, and so there are a lot of boxes scattered about everywhere.  While going to cut my grapefruit, I noticed a doll arm hanging out of one of the boxes, obviously put there for humor.  Always one who likes a good joke, I took the knife I was carrying to cut my grapefruit and attached it to the doll hand, and, Waa-la!, Chucky!

So, Chucky The Homicidal Doll lives in one of our boxes, and is trying to get out!  Boy, do I feel sorry for the unfortunate soul that opens that box!

Posted in Aaarrgh, Humor | No Comments »

Tulsa’s New Numbering System

Wednesday, May 18th, 2011

Part of my duties as Tulsa’s sign guy is to identify signs that need to be replaced.  For the better part of the past year, I have been driving the neighborhoods identifying street name markers that need to be replaced, and given that Tulsa has upwards of 36,000 intersections, it is not a task that can be completed overnight.  I was in a south Tulsa neighborhood earlier today identifying such signs, when I drove past one that, while relatively new and in good shape, seemed a bit off.  I stopped, threw the car in reverse, looked at the sign again, and then was completely embarrassed.

Apparently, Tulsa has a number that no other place has – 93th.  Is that ninety-thith? Ninety-threeth?  Ninety-thrith?  And where exactly does this number fall on the number line – between 92nd and 93rd or between 93rd and 94th?

Not only is it embarrassing that a large and educated place like Tulsa could misidentify 93rd as 93th, it is even more embarrassing that no one ever noticed!  Obviously, the sign fabricator never noticed.  Nor did the sign installer.  And, given that this sign has been out on the street for several years, neither did any of the residents.

Needless to say, this sign has been added to my “REPLACE’ list!

Posted in Aaarrgh, Engineering, Humor, Oklahoma, Tulsa | No Comments »

Baja Arizona? How About North South Carolina?

Thursday, May 12th, 2011

Some of the folks in Pima County, Arizona, are fed up with those numb-skulls a few miles west along Interstate 10 in Maricopa County.  Fed up with the reactionary right-wingers who make up “Maricopistan”.  Some in Pima County are so fed up they want to secede from Arizona and form the 51st state, Baja Arizona.

Sound ludicrous?  Well, the United States has a very proud history of secession.  Delaware in colonial times was actually part of Pennsylvania, but eventually became it’s own colony due to the Quakers’ vehement anti-slavery.  (The Lower Counties, as Delaware was then called, were slave-holding counties.)  Of course, the American Revolution was nothing more than 13 British colonies seceding from Great Britain.  The three first new states, Vermont, Kentucky, and Tennessee, were all carved from existing states – New York, Virginia, and North Carolina, respectively.  Poor Virginia – not only did it’s trans-Appalachian lands secede and become Kentucky in 1792, its northwestern counties seceded and became West Virginia in 1863.

Maine was taken from Massachusetts and made its own state in 1820.  (This is probably why Massachusetts still hates Missouri!)  Texas seceded from Mexico in 1835, joined the United States in 1845, and then seceded from the United States in 1861!  During the War of 1812, the New England states gathered at the Hartford Convention and threatened to secede.  Let’s not forget the South Carolina Nullification Crisis of 1832.  And, the ultimate secession, The War of Southern Secession, otherwise known as the American Civil War, a bloody conflict in which the south unsucessfully tried to secede, en mass, from the United States.  Secession, or the contemplation of, is as American as Apple Pie and Uncle Sam.

If Pima County were to successfully secede, it would not be the smallest state either geographically or by population.  When they created the western states, Congress had grown weary of the whole state-making thing and had gotten lazy, creating huge states with huge counties, as it’s much quicker to survey a couple of huge things than many small things.  Pima County is geographically larger than many important northeastern states, such as New Jersey, Connecticut, and Massachusetts, as well as not-so-important ones such as Rhode Island and Delaware.  Population-wise, as it is the home of Tucson and the University of Arizona (the hated Phoenix and Arizona State University are in Maricopistan), and has more people than such meccas as the North Dakota, Wyoming, and Alaska.  Of course, the desire to create Baja Arizona got me thinking of what other states could be created if certain areas seceded from existing ones?

Suppose Las Cruces and the White Sands area decides it has had enough of Albuquerque and Santa Fe.  Would they be “New New Mexico”?

If the rest of Oregon throws Portland out, would the remainder be “Orastay”?

If the chunk of Illinois that is not Chicago seceded, would it be “Wellinois”?

Suppose Pocatello had had enough of Boise and it’s sleazy ways.  Would the new state be “Inotdaho’?

If Charlotte, North Carolina, and it’s suburb, Rock Hill, South Carolina, decided they wanted to be in the same state together, would it be “North South Carolina” or “South North Carolina”?

If Wilmington separated from Dover, would it be “Delahere?”

If Kentucky split in two, would the new state be “Barbietucky’?  If the Mississippi coast split off from the rest of the state, would it be “Mistersippi”?

If the northern part of North Dakota were to become independent, would it be “North North Dakota” or “Far North Dakota” or just “Manitscolda”?

If Spokane said “see ya!” to Seattle, which one would be in “Dryington”?  If Duluth gives the Twin Cities the heave ho, would it be in “Maxisota” or “Minnecoffee?”  The possibilities are mind-numbing!

Suppose Eaton, Pennsylvania, the home of Crayola, decides to go it alone, it’s new state name would logically be, you guessed it, Crayonvania.

If Indiana decided that it doesn’t want Gary anymore, then the perfect name would be Gary, Outdiana.

One state, my current home state, was actually created out of two different territories, and could be easily split back into it’s two pieces, two pieces which are as different as night and day.  Since the eastern half was Indian Territory, and most of the people are not Indian, that wouldn’t make a very good name.  Given that it wouldn’t be part of Oklahoma, and the tendency for nasty windstorms, an appropriate name might be –  Oklanohoma.

Posted in Aaarrgh, History, Humor, Oklahoma, Politics | No Comments »

Two Baptists In A Liquor Store

Friday, January 29th, 2010

Here’s one from the Spitfire I work with (with apologies to my Baptist friends)….

Baptist  Shampoo  


While shopping in a grocery store, two Baptist church ladies happened

to pass by  the beer, wine, and liquor section. One asked the other if she would like a beer.  
The second good Baptist sister answered that, indeed, it would be

very nice to have  one, but that she would feel uncomfortable about purchasing it.  
The first sister replied  that she would handle that without a problem.

She picked up a six-pack and took it to  the cashier.  
The cashier had a surprised look, so the good Baptist sister said,

“This is  for washing our hair.”    


               Without blinking an eye, the cashier reached under the counter

                 and put a  package of pretzel sticks in the bag with the beer.

                                                “The curlers are on me.”

Posted in Aaarrgh, Humor | No Comments »

A P.O.ed Pimple

Wednesday, January 6th, 2010

Number 4 1/2 was showing his mother, The Missus, a sore in his mouth.  After much deliberation, she declared that it was a canker sore.  Number 5 1/2 was across the room when she said this, and asked if he could see the “Angry Zit”.  How he got “Angry Zit” from “canker sore” I can only conjecture, but it made me wonder how one can tell the difference between an “angry zit” and a “not-angry zit”?  Is the angry zit threatening to erupt all over the other skin cells if they don’t cooperate?  Does its head look like a cliched fist?  What percentage of zits are angry?  Why is it angry?

Aah, too many questions to ponder…..

Posted in Aaarrgh, Humor, Life | No Comments »

Police Harassment

Monday, December 28th, 2009

Here’s one I received from one of the fine citizens of Tulsa.

Recently, the Chula Vista, California Police Department ran an e-mail forum (a question and answer exchange) with the topic being, “Community Policing.”

 One of the civilian e-mail participants posed the following question, “I would like to know how it is possible for police officers to continually harass people and get away with it?”

 From the “other side” (the law enforcement side) Sgt. Bennett, obviously a cop with a sense of humor replied:

“First of all, let me tell you this…it’s not easy. In Chula Vista, we average one cop for every 600 people. Only about 60% of those cops are on general duty (or what you might refer to as “patrol”) where we do most of our harassing. The rest are in non-harassing departments that do not allow them contact with the day to day innocents. At any given moment, only one-fifth of the 60% patrollers are on duty and available for harassing people while the rest are off duty. So roughly, one cop is responsible for harassing about 5,000 residents. When you toss in the commercial business, and tourist locations that attract people from other areas, sometimes you have a situation where a single cop is responsible for harassing 10,000 or more people a day.

 Now, your average ten-hour shift runs 36,000 seconds long. This gives a cop one second to harass a person, and then only three-fourths of a second to eat a donut AND then find a new person to harass. This is not an easy task. To be honest, most cops are not up to this challenge day in and day out. It is just too tiring. What we do is utilize some tools to help us narrow down those people which we can realistically harass.

The tools available to us are as follows:

 PHONE: People will call us up and point out things that cause us to focus on a person for special harassment. “My neighbor is beating his wife” is a code phrase used often. This means we’ll come out and give somebody some special harassment.

Another popular one: “There’s a guy breaking into a house.” The harassment team is then put into action.

CARS: We have special cops assigned to harass people who drive. They like to harass the drivers of fast cars, cars with no insurance or no driver’s licenses and the like. It’s lots of fun when you pick them out of traffic for nothing more obvious than running a red light. Sometimes you get to really heap the harassment on when you find they have drugs in the car, they are drunk, or have an outstanding warrant on file.

RUNNERS: Some people take off running just at the sight of a police officer. Nothing is quite as satisfying as running after them like a beagle on the scent of a bunny. When you catch them you can harass them for hours.

STATUTES: When we don’t have PHONES or CARS and have nothing better to do, there are actually books that give us ideas for reasons to harass folks. They are called “Statutes”; Criminal Codes, Motor Vehicle Codes, etc…They all spell out all sorts of things for which you can really mess with people. After you read the statute, you can just drive around for awhile until you find someone violating one of these listed offenses and harass them. Just last week I saw a guy trying to steal a car. Well, there’s this book we have that says that’s not allowed. That meant I got permission to harass this guy. It’s a really cool system that we’ve set up, and it works pretty well. We seem to have a never-ending supply of folks to harass. And we get away with it. Why? Because for the good citizens who pay the tab, we try to keep the streets safe for them, and they pay us to “harass” some people.

Next time you are in my town, give me the old “single finger wave.” That’s another one of those codes. It means, “You can’t harass me.” It’s one of our favorites.

Posted in Aaarrgh, Humor | No Comments »

Have You Driven A Ford Lately?

Saturday, December 12th, 2009

Well, apparently, I haven’t.  Okay, let me backtrack.  I have a Ford Expedition that I drive daily.  I have a city-issued Ford Taurus that I drive daily.  The missus has a Ford Taurus that I drive only one in a blue moon, and hence my problem.

Her Taurus has some issues, so it stays parked most of the time.  After all, why drive the problematic vehicle when we have two good vehicles?  Yesterday was one of those rare days where we had to drive it.

The new custody arrangements between my wife and her second ex spell out that he is to have my stepson every other weekend, and that they are to meet to exchange him in Newkirk, Oklahoma, which is midway between us and him.  Newkirk is a smallish town that is between nowhere and nowhere that is about 100 miles away.  Since I don’t want her driving the untrustworthy vehicle that far, she drives the car I normally drive to work, the P.T. Cruiser.  the logistical issue arises in the fact that I don’t get home from Tulsa until after she leaves, so I can’t drive the Cruiser.  We have the Expedition, but that is needed to haul children around Bartlesville throughout the day, so I can’t take that one to Tulsa, either.  Which leaves the Taurus.

Let’s just say she wasn’t thrilled with the idea of me taking the Taurus to Tulsa, as I am not familiar with its quirks.  (Of which there are many.)  But, I insisted as the road to Tulsa is a busy four-lane one and I am a man, so if I break down on the side of the road, there is a place for me to pull over, a high likelihood that a law enforcement officer will pass by, and a lower probability of me getting attacked by some random psycho (that has to do with the Mike Gundy “I’m a man” thing).

Before I left for work, I added several quarts of oil (the Taurus has a voracious appetite for motor oil!), and fired it up.  Despite the tantalizing and delicious smell of oil burning, it was running.  Satisfied that it was working, I left.  Several miles down the road, on the edge of Bartlesville, I pulled in to a Phillips 66 to get some gas, as that is the last gas station for 30 miles.  I got my gas, put the key into the ignition, the radio came on, and….nothing.  It wouldn’t turn over!  Crap!

I was befuddled.  Why would this car that had sat parked through the coldest days of the year fire up without hesitation and now decide, after four miles, to not fire up at all?  Hmmm.  What changed?  I noted to myself that I had left the radio on when I had stopped for gas, so there must be an electrical short that drained the battery.  I tried again.  Still, I had the radio, but not enough to turn over the engine.  I then made two phone calls.

The first call was to my boss, to explain the situation and why I would be a tad bit late.  I had a very important task I had to get done, so I wasn’t at all happy about this persnickety vehicle.  The second call was to my wife, asking her to grab the jumper cables and come and rescue me.

Meanwhile, I was still sitting in a dead vehicle.  A vehicle that was blocking the gas pumps.  I was sure that the station managers were glaring at me through the picture windows for cutting into their business.  While I was waiting to be rescued, I popped to hood to see if I could see the source of the problems.  Perhaps there was a loose connection.

I looked at the battery cables.  Nope, nice and tight.  Strange.  This battery was only a couple months old, and it shouldn’t discharge spontaneously like that.  Perhaps it got wet and shorted.  Nope, no sign of a leak.  The reservoir was full.  After what seemed like an eternity staring under the hood with a befuddled glaze in my eyes, I closed the hood.  I decided that since I was blocking the pumps, I’d put the transmission in neutral and push it out of the way until help arrived.  Much to my chagrin, the transmission wouldn’t budge.  What the heck?!

It was like the ignition was stuck.  Try as hard as I might, I couldn’t get the transmission to go into neutral.  I jiggled the key, but no success.  I’d had a lot of vehicles die on me, but I’d never had one where the transmission was locked in park.  Damned Fords!

I’ll give it one last try, I told myself.  I took the key out of the ignition, and put the key back into the ignition, and turned the switch to get the transmission to be able to go to neutral….and it started!  What the….?  Then I looked at the key in the ignition, and laughed.  Sometimes it is the simplest things that bedevil us the most.  You see, on my wife’s key ring, there are two ignition keys, both for Fords – one for the Taurus, and one for the Expedition.  Both keys look identical – same size, same shape, same color.  The only difference, and it is a subtle one, is what is written across the black head of the key.  Since I had my extra Expedition keys made at my Ford dealer, it has the FORD logo across the head; the Taurus key does not.

Yes, the reason that I couldn’t get the Taurus to start was that I was using the wrong ignition key!  The two keys are close enough that the fit in each other’s ignition switch, and can apparently turn on the electrical system, but not enough to start the car.  Perhaps it was that computer chip in the key that prevented it from starting; I don’t really know.  What I do know is that you can’t start a Taurus with an Expedition key.

After I discovered my error, I called my wife and left a message – “Never mind”.  I called the home phone, too, but couldn’t reach her.  Hmmm.  Not good.  So I decided to wait for her to show up.  After waiting for five or so more minutes, I decided that my best course of action would be to turn around and go home, and intercept her on the way.  Two blocks form the gas station, I intercepted her. 

I asked her if she had gotten my message.  She had not, because she had left her phone at home.  She was in such a rush to rescue me that she had forgotten it.  Glad I stayed and waited.  I don’t know about you, but I know that if my spouse called me needing to be rescued and I showed up and my spouse wasn’t there, I’d be both ticked and worried.  (Oh yeah, that’s exactly how I felt when my ex did that, and I drove 90 miles to rescue her!  But that’s another story!)

As you are aware, it’s been a rough month for both the Missus and I.  Somehow, my “Duh” moment seemed to bring, even only for a brief moment, a bit of joy and humor to our lives.

Posted in Aaarrgh, Humor, Life, My personal soap opera | No Comments »

The Sweetness Of Married Life

Monday, December 7th, 2009

Here’s one I received from Princess….

The Sweetness of Married Life

The newlyweds were only married two weeks, when the husband said to the
wife, ‘Honey I’m going to Hank’s Tavern to have a beer, I’ll be right
back’.

‘Where are you going, Coochy Coo?’ asked the wife.

  ‘I’m going to the bar, Pretty Face,’ he answered. ‘I’m going to have a
beer…’

  The wife said, ‘You want a beer, my love?’ She opened the door to the
refrigerator and showed him 25 different kinds of beer, brands from 12
different countries: Germany , Holland , Japan , India , etc.

  The husband didn’t know what to do, and the only thing
  that he could think of saying was, ‘Yes, Lollipop… But
  at the bar…. You know……. they have frozen glasses…….. ‘

  He didn’t get to finish the sentence, because the wife
  interrupted him by saying, ‘You want a frozen glass,
  Puppy Face?’ She took a huge beer mug out of the freezer,

  so frozen that she was getting chills just holding it.

  The husband, looking a bit pale, said, ‘Yes, Tootsie Roll,

  but at the bar they have those hors d’oeuvres that are

  really delicious… I won’t be long.. I’ll be right back.

  I promise.  OK?’

  ‘You want hors d’oeuvres, Poochie Pooh?’ She opened

  the oven and took out 5 dishes of different hors d’oeuvres:
  chicken wings, pigs in blankets, mushroom caps, and

  little quiches.

  ‘But my sweet honey…. At the bar… You know
  there’s swearing, dirty words and all that…’

  ‘You want dirty words, Cutie Pie? LISTEN UP, CHICKEN
  SHIT! SIT YOUR SORRY ASS DOWN, SHUT THE HELL UP, DRINK YOUR
  BEER IN YOUR FROZEN MUG AND EAT YOUR HORS D’OEUVRES
  RIGHT HERE BECAUSE YOU’RE FREAKIN’ MARRIED NOW AND
  YOUR SORRY ASS IS SOOO NOT GOING TO A DAMNED BAR!

  THAT SHIT IS OVER! GOT IT, DUMBASS?’

  And they lived happily ever after.

  Isn’t that a sweet story?

  ……………
  MAKES MY EYES TEAR UP!!!

Posted in Aaarrgh, Comments, Humor, Schrader Cousin 29 | 1 Comment »

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