On FaceBook, Every Day is April Fool’s Day

Here are some of the favored pranks you can try:


Find a picture of a wineglass butt (females) or 6-pack abs (males) to use as your profile

Use the words “my son” and “state championship” in numerous posts

State that you rarely have time for FB, even though everyone can see via the chat feature that you’re full of shit

Track down old flames, then act surprised to find them there

Give BS examples of how your kids are oh-so perfectly smart

Express your 6th grade political views with such vehemence that people actually think you know what the hell you’re talking about

Call yourself a “playa” from the safety of Mom’s basement computer

Af-Am Veterans for Truth Raise Questions About Obama

A group calling themselves “African-American Veterans for Truth” is questioning the veracity of Barack Obama’s assertion that he is of African ancestry. Claiming to be former colleagues of the Illinois senator, this newly formed organization is going public with what they term “the real story.”

The leader of the group, who goes only by the name “Cement Head,” had this to say about the presidential candidate: “It’s falsehood, that’s all it is, claiming to be African-American when you’re clearly not. It would be like a stapler pretending to be wiffle ball, you know?” Other members chimed in on the topic as well.

“He’s not been honest with America,” said one unidentified woman. “We have what I consider sound evidence that he watches NASCAR.”

“A friend of mine knows someone who heard Lee Greenwood coming from his car stereo,” added a middle aged man who wished to be identified as H. “All I’ll say is the next time somebody says ‘all African-Americans raise your hands,’ you can bet he won’t.”

Although admitting he never met Obama, or saw him in person, Cement Head stated that he grew up “just a few states” from Illinois and that he “knows and hears shit.” He was not as quick to respond to the question of why his group is called “African-American Veterans for Truth” when neither he nor any of his cohorts are black.

“Now Obama can see what it’s like,” he finally opined, adding that “at least one” of the members is a veteran.

“So we’re basically representing ourselves honestly.”

An Editorial Writer with a Short Attention Span

Presidential candidates, and this runs across party lines, are making a big mistake by leaving Syria out of their Middle East discussions. Let’s face it—say, isn’t there a Syria in Illinois? Or is it—what am I thinking of? Maybe Northwestern—boy, was their football team bad this year or what? They’re the Eddie Money of college football. Baby hold on to me; give me a break. What does that even mean? Hey Eddie—hold this!

Most Eddies, I’ve noticed, are named Edward; damned few are Edwin. On the other hand, Edwin Pope writes for the Miami Herald, the paper that had Carl Hiaasen and Dave Barry on staff at the same time—wonder what that was like. I also wonder about balloons. If a kid let go of me and I drifted up to the clouds, that would be scary as hell. Still, “cumulonimbus” is kind of a cool word. Not as cool as “uvula”, but pretty cool nonetheless.

Cartoonists always draw the uvula when a character has his or her mouth open wide. It’s become habit now to write “his or her” where before I always had to make an effort to remember. Some people call it PC, but most of them don’t even know what PC means. In that respect, it’s sort of like “internist.” It’s tempting to assume those guys are still learning. But when you assume…you know the rest.

I first saw that when-you-assume thing on The Odd Couple. I once met a set of twins that were sort of like Oscar and Felix, except they were females. Twins do some peculiar things. I wonder if all that telepathy stuff is real. I know there sure are some weird stories about separated twins who know more about what the other one is doing than would seem possible.

Something that’s impossible at my local Burger King is actually getting the order right. I order the same thing every time and not only is my meal always different, the price is too. I never cared for The Price is Right. Too many weirdos. Sort of like Devo. What was the deal with those hats?

Dr. Seuss based “The Cat in the Hat” on a list of recommended words for children to learn. Recommendations can be touchy business. If you think someone needs a psychologist, how do you tell them? In that sense, it’s a bit like halitosis.

Women seem to remember the bad breath thing more than men do. When they eat fish or onions, they cover their mouths when talking. I know only one male who does that and he’s not from America. He’s been here most of his life, but grew up somewhere in the Middle East. It might have been Syria. Coincidentally, I was just thinking about that particular nation. To my way of thinking, presidential candidates, and this runs across party lines, are making a big mistake by leaving Syria out of their Middle East discussions.

But that’s a topic better left for another day.

Notable Essays, Part MCXXVII: Grappefroot

The following excerpt is from an essay, entitled “Republicans and Democrats,” written by Stanley Grappefroot, the only American writer known to simulate bodily noises every 13 syllables.

Perhaps I was naïve, but as a young adult, I—sniff—viewed American political parties far dif—ah-choo!—ferently than I do today. My mental image—BRAAACK!!—of Democrats was an idealistic son, full—[grunt]—of ideas and wanting desperately to save the—ack!—world, if only he had the money to do so. Re—BLAH! LURCH! SPLASH!—publicans, on the other hand, were the dad with the—hack!—checkbook, saying, “Son, I respect your goals, but we sim—ssssssss… “Ah, the pause that refreshes!”—ply cannot afford them all. Let us choose some and re—squeek—visit the others later.” To my way of thinking— Ptttt!—both were needed and both needed each other. Nowa—“Oof! Uh!” [Ker-plunk!] “Ahh!”—days, however, the GOP stands for power, as—Wah! Wahh!—in accumulating as much as possible, damn—ptui!—those in the way. But, unlike the Dems, at least they stand—zzzzzzzzzz—for something.