When a monastery sold fish and chips as a fundraiser, some wag asked a brother, “Are you the fish friar?” “No, I’m the chip monk.”
My fiance was with me when I went down on “quizzical,” and as my wife when “mozzarella” got me. My German studies had made me expect more from a single z.
Was once in an epic bee – Dad thought my final opponent must have been a retired schoolmarm – in which they ran out of lists and pulled out some Reader’s Digest “Word Power” pages. I finally went down on “propagate” – I envisioned the topical section of our hymnal, “Propagation of the Gospel;” unfortunately, I envisioned the first “a” as an “o.”
A few years ago I took a free course on slapstick films, cosponsored by TCM. It identified a short of someone pulling the old crimp and release the garden hose trick as the first.
Reminded of a cartoon some time back with the caption "Trouble brewing. " A dachshund was examining a bonsai display.
When my Uncle Dick and Uncle Roger were fitted with their ushers’ tuxes for Aunt Mary’s wedding, she commented that they looked like a couple of headwaiters. At the end of the wedding, when she and Uncle Vaughan turned to go down the aisle, she burst out laughing. They were standing at the door with towels over their arms.
“Politics, the Art of the Possible” in Evita
That and Sammy’s “Spinning Wheel” are my favorite radio memories from my early childhood.
Washington and Lincoln, and back in the day Jefferson, were on the bills people would see most often.
I’d like to have more alongside the garage where I grill. Get rid of the flies.