Thread: My Word Board: Oblivion / Ship of Fools.


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Posted by Tortuf (# 3784) on :
 
One of my favorite shows is My Word!, a fun little show about the English language. One of the segments is where the contestants are given a well known phrase and are supposed to tell a story and have the story match a fractured version of the phrase. I think it might be a fun game here.

To start off, I will relate a short, true, story and work it into my fractured phrase. I do not think it is important whether or not the story is true. Here goes:

Not one to suffer fools gladly

The other night I paid a visit to a local ER. There, I got to wait for a long, long, time until I could be shown to a bed in a more or less uncrowded hallway. My fellow denizens of the ER waiting room seemed to be mostly suffering from some kind of flu that required frequent spitting up. One woman was quite demonstrative concerning her feelings on the subject. Every few minutes we got to hear; "Ooooh. OOOOOHHH!, Oooooh."

At first I thought she might have been a bit of a drama queen. Later I realized that she was simply
not one to suffer flus gladly.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
So, Tortuf, what is the game? Does each poster suggest a well-known expression that the next poster will then spin into a fractured etymology? Does that poster then suggest a new expression?

If so, let me suggest:

A mind is a terrible thing to waste.
 
Posted by Tortuf (# 3784) on :
 
Many people think Marcel Marceau died at a racetrack at the ripe old age of 84. This is simply untrue. He actually was quite a world traveler. In fact, he was well known among a tight little circle of friends for his daring choices in travel destinations. For instance, he one time visited LA (Lower Alabama) and put on free mime acts at local bars.

His last trip was his most memorable. He had heard of a long lost tribe in Papua New Guinea that had never been exposed to Western Civilization until just a few days before. Marcel was ecstatic. He rounded up his buddies and headed straight out by private jet. The trek took several days and in the end they were reduced to hiking with limited supplies to keep the weight down in the steep hills of the highlands.

Unfortunately, one of the things they left behind was guns. Also unfortunately, the lost tribe happened to be cannibals. Marcel was killed and roasted over a blazing fire in front of his companions who only escaped a similar fate when the Army came in to rescue them.

When interviewed in The National later, all one of his companions could blurt out was
A Mime is a terrible thing to baste.

An apple a day keeps the doctor away.
 
Posted by Stetson (# 9597) on :
 
One annoying but underreported drawback to these snazzy new features you can get for your cell phones is that their usage, for some as-of-yet-unknown reason, can sometimes attract the attention of local water fowl, who will be drawn, on foot, to wherever the cell-phone user is located.

There was recently a case reported in Minnesota where this happened, and what made it especially gruelling for the user was that the road in front of her house had just been paved, and the water fowl tracked sticky black goo all over her lawn. So, she had to take a break from using the phone features until the road had finished solidifying.

An app-holiday keeps the duck tar away.

Next...

The eyes are the window to the soul
 
Posted by Hedgehog (# 14125) on :
 
I once ate in one of those fancy theme restaurants. This one had a pirate ship theme, with all the wait staff dressed appropriately. One table was located near a window that looked out on to the street. Strictly speaking, it should have been a porthole, but this particular spot was in an awkward spot in the restaurant and seldom had anybody sitting there, so they left the window.

On this particular day, a man had sat at that table and ordered a fish dinner--a flatfish broiled with herb butter. After the meal had been placed before him, he realized that he did not have money with him and so, when the wait staff was looking the other way (somebody had yelled "Land Ho!" and, out of habit, they all turned their heads), the customer snuck away with his meal untouched and without paying.

The head waiter (in his captain garb) was understandably disturbed by this. Here was a cooked meal that he could not sell to anybody else. It seemed a shame for it to go to waste. By chance, he looked out the window and saw a bum sitting on the curb. The bum looked half-starved. Opening the window, the head waiter asked the bum iff he would like the meal. "Okay!" said the bum. The head waiter frowned slightly. "That response" he said, "seems to be inappropriate." (He was a bot of a fuddy-duddy). The bum thought for a bit and said "ask me again." The head waiter asked him again "Would you like this dinner?"
the bum replied: "Aye, aye, Captain!" Satisfied, the waiter handed the meal to him out the window, commenting: "The Ayes are the window to the sole."

Next up:

In for a penny, in for a pound.
 
Posted by Albertus (# 13356) on :
 
The owner of a chain of hotels also had interest in a furrier's shop. However, in recent years that side of his business had suffered badly from the campaigns of the animal rights movement. He decided to fight back by offering any woman bold enough to wear her mink or sable a stay at the hotel of her choice for a purely nominal fee. The advertisments announcing this offer were headlined thus:

In fur wrap- any inn for £1!

Next: Fine words butter no parsnips
 
Posted by Hedgehog (# 14125) on :
 
So, as I was saying, I was having dinner at this pirate-theme restaurant (see above). My waitress, Belinda by name, was a chipper young thing, but somewhat forgetful and prone to distraction. For example, my dining companion (Sarah) and I ordered drinks. Sarah asked for a martini--which came in a champagne glass. And Belinda had completely forgotten my Manhattan. Her distraction became even greater because (as you may recall from the previous story) the window had been left open and one could hear sounds from the street. Normally, this would not be a problem, but there was a bicycle race going one and whenever a rider when by, Belinda would turn her head to look. (I blame the tight racing pants.)

So I placed my order for a nice slice of roast. However, the description on the menu indicated that it came with a side of parsnips. Now, I don't particularly like parsnips. Give me a carrot any day. So I asked if I could have the roast, but without the parsnips.

"Well, they don't give you many of 'em," she said, while twisting her head to catch a look at the next cyclist.

"I really don't care how many they give. I don't wish to have any, if you don't mind."

Another rider went by the window. Belinda sighed happily. "I just love the sound as the bikes go past."

"Yes," I commented, trying to get her back on the subject. "Fine whirrs, but--errr--no parsnips."

Next up, an easy one: Raining cats & dogs

[Tangent]With certain literary modifications, this is almost a true story. The martini in a champagne glass is true. And, at that same dinner, the waiter, when told I wanted "no onion rings" replied with "but they only give you a few..." [/tangent]
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
At a recent city council meeting, a particular piece of pending lesiglation was being fiercely debated. On one side of the debate two councilmen, Katz and Doggs, remained irreconcilably opposed to compromise. As the hour was growing late and a vote was required before adjournment, one of the councilmen on the other side finally petitioned the mayor, "Can't you rein in Katz and Doggs?"

When storm clouds gather, wise men put on overcoats.
 
Posted by Stetson (# 9597) on :
 
While studying at an agricultural college, my friend Juan developed an obsession with watching old reruns of a 1970s cop show. Since Juan was the kind of guy who liked to go whole-hog with his enthusiams, he purchased a bunch of posters and action-figures representing the main character, and used them to decorate his campus residence, thus securing for himself quite the reputation as a local eccentric.

One evening, Juan lined up all his dolls outside his residence, and performed a ventriloquist routine in which the dolls appeared to insult the fans of another popular 70s cop show. After a video of this went viral, fans of the defamed show, all of them male, descended like a giant tidal wave outside Juan's residence, angrily chanting the famous catch-phrase of their favorite show. After about an hour of this, they grew tired, and were reduced to mewing the last word of the catch phrase.

By that point, however, Jaun had fled his residence, leaving behind only a couple of capri specimens he had been using for an animal-husbandry project, to hear the gentle chanting.

The headlines in the campus paper the next day...

JUAN'S DORM MCLEODS GATHER! HAWAII'S MEN PURR "DANNO" FOR GOATS!

Next...

A diamond is a girl's best friend

[ 29. June 2012, 00:55: Message edited by: Stetson ]
 
Posted by Hedgehog (# 14125) on :
 
So, to continue with my story:

Belinda, the Flighty Waitress, finally got our order reasonably close to correct and Sarah and I finished our meal. Leaving the restaurant (dodging the odd bicyclist), we decided to walk along the river front. As part of an economic development effort, the town council had installed a nice promenade lined with boutique-type stores. One of the many stores was a comic book shop and I couldn't resist going in and browsing.

One issue was a cross-company crossover tale featuring Dark Horse Comic's version of Robert E. Howard's Conan the Barbarian and DC's Batman.

The story started with Batman, investigating a museum theft, picking up a strange curio that was on the floor. It turns out that the curio was a trap planted by Batman's enemy, Ra's al Ghul. Batman was whisked through time and space to the Hyborian Age.

As part of Ra's al Ghul's plan, Conan initially perceived Batman as an enemy--an evil wizard in league with Conan's arch enemy, Thoth Amon. However (and predictably) Conan's noble nature and Batman's noble nature find common ground and they team up against the two villains.

Conan and Batman eventually confront Ra's al Ghul and Thoth Amon. And then something strange happened. Seeing the two villains together, Conan started laughing and even Batman permitted himself a grim smirk. You see, Thoth Amon was a worshipper of Set, the snake god, and he was decked out in a costume with a snake theme. As for Ra's al Ghul...well, Conan expresssed it best:

"Crom! Just look at him, wearing that long fur coat! He looks like a rabbit next to your snake! I am surprised that he is not hopping away in fear!"

Ra's al Ghul was infuriated. "Rabbit?!? I will have you know that this coat is made of only the finest pelts of rare blue Himalayan mink. It took me centuries to collect them to make this coat!"

During this distraction, Batman had taken a couple of pellets from his utility belt and threw them at Ra's al Ghul. They exploded, coloring the blue Himalayan mink pelts a garish pink and orange. Ra's al Ghul was horrified.

"You have destroyed it, Detective! I shall have my revenge!" With that, he triggered a reverse spell to take him back to the modern age and Batman quickly grabbed him, so as to be taken along for the ride.

Left alone, Conan turned to his arch enemy and observed:

"That just proves it. A dye, Amon, is al Ghul's best fur end."

(Just because it took a long time for me to get there did not mean that it was going to be any good.)

Moving on: Where there's smoke, there's fire.
 
Posted by Tortuf (# 3784) on :
 
Working with the Boy Scouts, I go camping a lot. In the summer we don't do many fires as there is no need for heat.


In the fall and winter fires are welcome. Every scout is trained how to make and maintain a safe fire. Some scouts really like fires. They are always moving the wood, adding wood, and making it way too big. Every unit has one. In our troop it was Bob Smoak. Every campout he went on he made a bonfire.

That is why we always knew, where there is Smoak, there is fire.

Next, don't cast your pearls before swine.
 
Posted by Albertus (# 13356) on :
 
Strange goings on in South Yorkshire recently. Criminals who robbed a jeweller's shop in Doncaster got away with quite a haul, but the police were onto them pretty quickly. Nonetheless, they managed to escape, but only at the cost of dumping a large part of their swag in a pig farm just outside the neighbouring town of Rotherham. Pigs being as they are, they had a good old rootle among the abandoned jewels, and before all the stolen goods could be recovered the pigs had eaten some of them, including a number of pearl chokers, earrings, etc.

Nobody, except the insurance company, thought any more of this until a few days later the pig farmer noticed something odd: some of his pigs were mutating into cows. Further investigation revealed that this phenomenon was limited to those who'd eaten the chokers and earrings that the thieves had dumped.

The government veterinary laboratory is still trying to find a scientific explanation for this very strange occurrence, but in the meantime the story has been reported in the Rotherham Gazette under the headline


Doncaster Pearls 'Beef' Our Swine

OK, Every cloud has a silver lining
 
Posted by Tortuf (# 3784) on :
 
Dateline 2018:

The "Cloud" has taken over the WWW despite strong opposition from rebel groups like Apple and Linux. It seems that Bill Gates programmed all the Windows 7 phones to use the information he had hacked from the Google Street View interceptions to program a super computer capable of working through the ever growing network of Windows 7 phones as a part of his evil plot to take over the universe.

Now, only a few Russian hackers are left alive to battle Gates. One of them, code name Tonto, is a huge fan of the old Lone Ranger TV show from the early days of American TV. As a jab at Gates, and as a tribute to his favorite TV show, Tonto hacked the programming of the "Welcome to the Cloud" message to now show a short clip of the Lone Ranger's horse, Silver, rising up on his hind legs and whinnying while the Lone Ranger himself waves his cowboy hat.

Tonto was so spectacularly successful with his hack that the "Silver" clip has become a cultural icon, even among the masses who have been virtually zombie-ised by the Cloud. Every time anyone wants to log onto the Cloud, they see Silver.

So, it can now be said that Every Cloud has a Silver Whining.

ahem

Next: Six of one, half a dozen of the other.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
A certain man was inordinatly fond of dairy products, and yet he suffered from a particularly severe lactose intolerance.

As a compromise, he wondered if cow's udder, properly prepared, would give him the same culinary satisfaction as did its, erm, fruits.

It turned out that his favorite neighborhood Chinese restaurant, where he had previously enjoyed a dairy dish called Fwun, also served the dish he now fancied.

And so, after seating himself at his usual table, he gave the waiter his order: "I'm sick of fwun, but half-dozen of the udder, please."

She's only a bird in a gilded cage.
 
Posted by Hedgehog (# 14125) on :
 
Sarah was getting a little tired of being in the comic book store with me, so we left--without buying the Conan/Batman crossover (see above) because, to be honest, it was kind of a silly story. We went back out onto the River Promenade and strolled some more.

A block or so down the way, we came across an antique store. As it so happens, it was owned and operated by an old school friend of mine--Everett Kelly, who easily got the nomination for being the class clown. He was the type who would do anything to get a laugh. Personally, I always suspected that he was compensating for being shy. I don’t think I ever saw him talk seriously with a girl. He had to clown around—preferring to have them laugh with him rather than at him. Unfortunately, this shyness got worst as he got older. He stopped making gags and just spoke awkwardly whenever a pretty woman was near him. However, he was a learned man and he was doing as well as one can expect in the antiques business--even in a high rent area like the River Promenade.

Sarah loves antiques and she was happy to look around while Everett and I caught up with each other. She became rather entranced with a rolltop desk. Being a well-read young lady, she knew that such things would have hidden drawers to store valuables. In addition, being a mechanical engineer by training, she always analyzed such objects looking for these hidden drawer. She did so with this desk and, as usual, she succeeded. She discovered that, if you pressed in on a flathead nail near the back, one of the wooden pillars popped open to reveal a hiding place. Sarah curiously poked her hand in and brought out two objects.

"Hedgie," she called. "Come see this!" She held the objects out to me. One was a small metal rod with a sharp end. “It is a rotary cutting tool," she xplained. "You put it on the end of a drill to do fine chipping or cutting.”

"Yes, I am familiar with such things," I said with a gentle smile. Because she is a professional engineer, she tends to assume that I know nothing about tools or construction. “What is that other thing?”

"It is a sheet of paper," she said, somewhat puzzled.

I studied it. “Oh, it is a page torn from a book," I said. "Waht a pity. The book must have been a nice edition, too.” I showed her how the edge glinted in the light. “It was one of those books that the edges of the pages painted gold.”

"Yes, I am familiar with such things," she said with a gentle smile. Fine. We were even. I grinned at her, gave her a kiss on the cheek and
went back up front to chat with Everett some more while Sarah continued her browsing.

Everett, smiled at me when I came back. He jerked his head in Sarah’s direction. “See anything she likes?”

“No,” I said, shaking my head. “Sees only a burr, then a gilded page."

Next: Jack of all trades, master of none.
 
Posted by Stetson (# 9597) on :
 
After suffering some particularly embarrassing military setbacks, the famous Zulu king Shaka asked his top advisor how to spin the incident to the Zulu public. He also inquired as to the advisability of imposing a tax on outside foodstuffs being imported for use in the army kitchen.

The adivsor contacted his p.r. guru, who suggested blaming the setbacks on outside excursions into Zulu territory. He then met with the economic czar, a devout free trader who cautioned against any tampering with market forces.

The advisor's memo is reproduced here.

Shaka-

Fault raids.

Mess tariff: None.

And now...

People in glass houses shouldn't throw stones

[ 30. June 2012, 18:50: Message edited by: Stetson ]
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
Mr. Paul House woke up one morning with an excruciating backache. He called the family physician, who opined, "Well, Paul, it sounds to me like you have a kidney stone. Best head off to the hospital. I'll meet you there."

No other family member being home at the time, Mr. House asked his elderly father to drive him to the hospital. The old man obliged.

When Mr. House arrived, the doctor was already there waiting for him. After a thorough examination, the doctor confirmed his suspicion of a kidney stone. "These things usually pass on their own," the doctor advised, "but it's a bit of a nuisance to wait for it to happen, I know. I'd advise you to urinate into this glass tumbler. We'll examine the results, and eventually we should be able to see the stone in the glass."

"'Bother' is putting it mildly," Mr. House replied. This stone of mine is causing me a great deal of discomfort. Once it does pass, I feel like taking it and hurling it against the wall!"

"Harrumph!" exclaimed Mr. House's elderly father, who had been waiting patiently in an examining room chair. "That won't do at all. Pee, Paul, in glass. Houses shouldn't throw stones!"

A bird in the hand is worth two in the bush.

[ 01. July 2012, 17:29: Message edited by: Amanda B. Reckondwythe ]
 
Posted by Tortuf (# 3784) on :
 
The thing about the Redneck Riviera is that the bugs around here are big, they bite, and there are a lot of them. Fortunately, most of the time they confine themselves to the areas of thick, scrubby, vegetation and stay away from the beach.

Unfortunately, because of recent storms at the beach a lot of insects have been displaced. The beach is now crawling (literally) with all kinds of nasty biting bugs. Little children have been seen to run screaming.

Fortunately, just like with the Mormons, the birds have come to our rescue. Unfortunately, birds are not the smartest creatures on the face of the earth and many of them have gone bug hunting in the bushes instead of the beach.

This is why around here, a bird on the sand is worth two in the bush.

In for a penny, in for a pound.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
The summer season is upon us, despite the obvious lack of sun that this would imply. Across the country, people whom it seems have nothing better to do on a Sunday morning are rising at the crack of dawn and decending in droves to designated fields for to buy and sell unwanted items of dubious quality at Car Boot Sales.

At one such Boot Sale recently attended by myself I witnessed an unfortunate incident at a stall run by Lady Brackston on behalf of the local Ladies Dart team.

A potential customer approached and after studying the contents of the table, offended Lady Brackston by making a ridiculous offer on a Georgian Silver Pot.

"Well it's obviously a fake" claimed the customer and not worth more than 10p.

"I am not sure that I catch the drift of what you are inferring" intoned our Lady, eyes glinting behind a thunderous stare... "However if your intention is to buy, I would estimate your offer to be worth a hundred times more therefore if you infer a penny, infer a pound".


Let Sleeping Dogs Lie
 
Posted by Banner Lady (# 10505) on :
 
Shiftwork in winter is a bitch, especially when you emerge at 6am to find you are standing and waiting for your lift to arrive in filthy weather. This particular morning I had longer to wait than usual in the bitter cold, because a thick fog had settled over everything.

I was hoping my other half would actually be able to find me - I could barely see my blue hand in front of my blue face. To compound the misery, by the time he did arrive, it had begun to sleet. I fell into the car and slammed the door against the weather, cursing the icy rain.

My beloved shook his head. "It's a good thing it's raining," he commented. "It makes the pea-souper disappear. Let sleeting fogs cry."


All for one and one for all.
 
Posted by Stetson (# 9597) on :
 
Remember the 80s sitcom about a space alien who moves in with a suburban family? Well, TV historians recently unearthed the original cocktail napkin on which the show's creators had outlined the premise and characters.

The outline turned out to be such a work of literary genius, some entertainment journalists nominated it for a special Emmy, created just for the occassion. The Emmy people agreed to give the award.

However, critics complained that it was unfair to give special consideration towards one particular televisual relic. So, to avoid the appearance of favouritism in the awarding of retroactive honours, they also decided to bestow a statuette on a beloved game-show host of yesteryear.

Alf Ur won, and one for Hall.

Next...

Houston, we have a problem.
 
Posted by MiceElf (# 4389) on :
 
Sadly as a result of cut - backs in the NHS, many services once provided by trained and skilled clinicians are now becoming increasingly difficult to accsess. This is never more true than those services such as Counselling.

A report by the Sunday Scandal, raised the alarming issue of unethical practices being carried out by untrained self appointed "therapists" who charge enormous fees, for simply listening to people in their hour of need... based soley on the premise that a problem shared is a problem halved.

Their research was endorsed by a surge of newly listed advertisments in the Personal Columns of their own paper.

One such advertisment from a Private Clinic claimed that for a fee... Dr Hugh and Dr Stonn
were able to assist.. If unavailable please leave a message and we will get back to you.

The advert read Hugh; Stonn; We halve a Problem.


When in Rome....
 
Posted by Tortuf (# 3784) on :
 
Here in Alaska, we have a terrible time coming up with enticing wording for our tourism ads. After all, "Spend your vacation where it is so fricking cold the toilet bowl freezes" is not likely to bring in a lot of tourist dollars.

So, we come up with new and better ways of expressing how cold it is, or why you would deliberately expose yourself to that much cold.

In the end, some of us simply gave up about the temperature and concentrated on other good things, like the really erratic behavior of people who have been in winter weather too long.

Now, the latest ad campaign is based upon
When in Nome, do as the Nome-ans do.

Next, Give her some gas.
 
Posted by Stetson (# 9597) on :
 
On the day that the singer for the Mamas and the Papas was to be buried, the clerk at the LA funeral home looked at the itinerary, saw her name listed(with abbreviation) as next to go to be driven to the cemetery, and called over to the driver Kevin...

"Kev, hearse. M. Cass."

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
A certain British doctor took up gardening as a hobby. Dissatisfied with the usual assortment of plants that grow easily in the climate of the British Isles, he decided to experiment with tropical fruits -- bananas, melons, mangos, etc.

People called him mad! Indeed, he had little success with bananas and melons, but his mangos flourished remarkably. Soon he became the talk of his neighborhood: Mad docs and English mangos -- out in the midday sun.

Once bitten, twice shy.
 
Posted by Stetson (# 9597) on :
 
In my university Classics course, I could remember everything about the Oedipus story except a) what the exact problem with his mother was, and b) how he ended up. So, to help myself on the final exam, I made the following cheat sheet...

Once beddin'; two eyes shy.

Dewey Defeats Truman
 
Posted by piglet (# 11803) on :
 
Renowned author Truman Capote had terrible difficulry giving up smoking. He tried everything - patches, hypnotism, chewing-gum ... but nothing worked.

Da weed defeats Truman

Next: Make hay while the sun shines
 
Posted by Curiosity killed ... (# 11770) on :
 
I have a neighbour called Kay, who is one of those disapproving mothers whose children can never do well enough. Her son, John, has, not surprisingly worked his socks off trying to meet his mother's exacting standards and has won everything he's put his hands to. Earlier this week there was a story about them in the local paper. The photograph accompanying this shows John clutching the whole sheaf of awards to his name with his disapproving mother just about showing her approval. The reporter knows this family well and captioned the picture with: May Kay smile; son shines

The proof of the pudding is in the eating
 
Posted by Albertus (# 13356) on :
 
We had our loft insulated recently. I asked the chap fitting it how we would know that the insulation was doing its job. He explained that if it was, our winter fuels bill would go down. 'You mean..' I said: 'Yes', he replied, ' the proof of the padding is in the heating '

Next: All roads lead to Rome
 
Posted by Stetson (# 9597) on :
 
When dadaism was at in its waning days, young artists in cultural backwaters still found it possible to seduce women by putting on trite, pseudo-intellectual performance pieces, mostly derivative of the earlier school.

One young man's schtick consisted of going to campus coffee shops in the American midwest(where dadaism was still whipsered about as something new and shocking), standing on a chair at the front of the room, and shouting out classic poems, mostly meditations on one particular object, event, or person, at the top of his lungs. There was usually at least one young lady in attendance who was impressed enough to accompany the artist back to whatever fleabag flophouse he was staying at.

A cynical(and possibly jealous) art professor in one of these towns summed up the guy's m.o. thusly...

'oller odes; lead 'er home.

Next...

Lay ee odl lay ee odl lay hee hoo
 
Posted by Tortuf (# 3784) on :
 
There is a really weird and creepy guy who lives in my neighborhood. For years he has been rumored to go out at night in his boxer shorts and bathrobe and stalk people out on a walk. He was also suspected of especially targeting women.

Well, a bunch of us on my street got together and decided to catch they guy in the act and see if we couldn't get him locked up. So, we all donned women's dresses and went walking around the neighborhood. Sure enough, the creep showed up and began stalking me; this is despite my full beard.

I will remember his final words before my across the street neighbor body tackled him for a long, long time:

Lady, old lady, old lady, BOO.

Next: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times.
 
Posted by Amanda B. Reckondwythe (# 5521) on :
 
A certain celebrity chef by the name of Thymes was once given a challenge: Set out one of your signature dishes before a blindfolded diner and see if he can guess what it is.

And so Thymes prepared his most special dish, basted liverwurst.

The blindfolded diner took a taste. But alas, as soon as he had done so, he began to gag and in another moment keeled over dead.

The horrified onlookers wondered what it was about the dish that had caused the diner's untimely demise. Naturally, opinions varied. "It was the baste of Thymes." "It was the wurst of Thymes."

There's no use crying over spilled milk.
 
Posted by Tortuf (# 3784) on :
 
Milt Frobusher was a great friend of mine. Always there to lend a hand when needed. Always happy to listen when I wanted to whine.

Milt never got used to the difference between crossing the street in the small town where he lived and crossing the street in a big city. That problem cost him his life one day as he was smashed to pieces by a bunch of frat boys who had "borrowed" a street cleaning vehicle. The bad part was that dear old Frobusher was dead, the good part was the mess was cleaned up by the time the cops got there.

Anyway, he was cremated. The funeral was held at his favorite marina, the Marina Del Soul, in South Panama City. Unfortunately, his widow was not too steady on her feet and when a large boat rocked the walkway with it's wake, she fell over and dropped the container of ashes into the water.

Trying to comfort her, I told her There's no use crying over spilled Milt. He always wanted a burial at sea.

Next You have to break an egg to make an omelet.
 
Posted by Albertus (# 13356) on :
 
As you may know, theatrical people never wish each other luck: instead, they use a term which, if meant literally, would cause the recipient to be afflicted with lameness rather than blessed with fortune.
One young thespian had no time for this custom- not least when he had the wonderful opportunity to play 'The Dane' at Stratford. 'Enough of your old superstitions', he cried to his friends: 'just wish me luck, in plain English!'. So, on the opening night, that is what they did: and the performance was a disaster. The young actor stumbled, forgot his lines, and when he dried up after no more than 'To be or not to be...' his humiliation was complete.
On the next night, suitably sheeepish, he repented of his disregard for tradition and asked his friends to wish him luck in the traditional theatrical way. They did so, and his performance was triumphantly transformed. Fortified by the time-hallowed benediction, he repeated his triumphs night after night and to this day his is still remembered as one of the finest ever interpretations of what is perhaps Shakespeare's greatest role.

Which only goes to show that you have to break a leg to make a Hamlet .

Next: It's an ill wind that blows no good.

[ 05. July 2012, 15:36: Message edited by: Albertus ]
 
Posted by Tortuf (# 3784) on :
 
Alwind Industries is a well known Canadian manufacturer of windows for tough climatic conditions.

My sister-in-law and brother-in-law were rebuilding their house on the Redneck Riviera for the fifth time recently and decided that this time they were going to make sure the windows didn't give way in a hurricane. So, they went shopping on the WWW for really tough windows. They came across Alwind Industries and decided to give them a go. They worked wonderfully.

Unfortunately, my brother-in-law had a little problem with his retirement investments and decided he might try cashing in on his homeowners insurance come the next hurricane. He tried leaving the windows unlatched. He tried leaving some partially open, whatever came to mind. It just didn't work. The windows protected the house and no appreciable damage was done. There was to be no insurance money.

As he later said pointing at a window, "That's an Alwind, the blow was no good.'

Next: Always wear clean underwear.
 
Posted by Tortuf (# 3784) on :
 
As you all know, Calvin Klein designs some of the most famous underwear in the world. Supermodels especially are fond of CK underwear because it is so silky it facilitates changing from one haute couture* outfit to another. This is important in the high fashion world as models are expected to get out on the runway on time, every time.

So, one of the old sayings in Paris and Milan is:Always wear Klein underwear.

Next: He that lieth down with Dogs, shall rise up with Fleas.


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*French for: If you have to ask "How much?", you can't afford it.
 


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