The intellectual equivalent of a ham sandwich.

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Take 5

Monday morning last week my sweet kiddo scratched my eye, so no blogging for this blurry-visioned fool! I’m sure you’ll miss my nonsense dearly. (Five eye doc visits in five days, what a rush!)

Back to your regularly scheduled silliness next week with Monday, Wednesday and Friday posts. Will Ellen continue to ignore me? Undoubtedly! Will I write about my child? Likely! Will I have some other filler post because I have not had any creative thoughts? Yeah, seems about right.

Tune in next week to find out more!


He is Risen

I’m So, So Sorry

Apologies, friends.

Sorry, especially, to Jesus.

But whenever I see ‘He is Risen’ (which I saw a lot of recently when I went to a flea market in town looking at children’s books … so many Christian children’s books, but zero Babar).

Anywho … I see those and think.

Could I write a book? A self-help book for parents of teenagers. It encourages fun weekend or summer activities, anything to get your kid up and out of bed.

‘He is Risen: A Guide to Waking Up Your Teen.’

Again … apologies. Apologies not only for something that is probably blasphemous, but also kind of a bad joke.

But I can imagine a nice, young Christian mom getting home with her new book. Opening it up, rolling her eyes, being frustrated and disappointed, and then seeing her child and thinking, ‘eh, might as well hold on to this for when he’s older.’

Musical Monday

Apple sure can pick some catchy tunes for their ads. Here are four such tunes.





Check out this playlist

Check out all the Music Mondays

When News Breaks …

At DumbFunnery, we take journalistic integrity as the value of highest importance. So when news breaks – we’ll be there with duct tape!

(No. No, that’s not what that phrase means.)

Ah! DumbFunnery, a bastion of ethics and go-get-em-ics, is ready to hide a lock pick and a shiv in a home-baked cake to help BREAK OUT that news!

(What on Earth? That’s worse. Definitely not that. Just give me a sec and I’ll explain …)

DumbFunnery, armed with a pen, a love of the truth, and a cardboard box, is around for breaking news. Lay down a beat, do the cabbage patch, and let’s breakdance the news.

(…I don’t understand. How are you so unaware of what breaking news means?)

DumbFunnery never takes their foot off the gas, charging hard and fast until – SCREEEEEEEEE – it’s time to brake … for news?

(That’s somehow the most wrong, and the closest?)

DumbFunnery, grabbing the blanket of journalism and a cup of hot tea of hard-hitting questions, is here to help you get back to feeling ready to take on the world. Because sure, news broke up with you, but hang in there tiger, it’s just a bit of breaking news.

(Fine. Let’s go with that.)

When news breaks (up) … DumbFunnery is here to watch Love Actually, maybe call your ex and make funny noises until your ex hangs up, and perhaps even … win a Pulitzer?

Music Monday




Trying to make sure I’ve got all the dance moves set for a wedding next month


This Playlist

All Songs in One Playlist

Dear Avid Fan

I’ve been sick this past week (thank you germ factory that is daycare) and when I’m sick creative and weird thoughts are quick to go … as is a desire to accomplish anything.

Next week tune back in for drivel, the kind of drivel only a man-child could deliver.

Also you’ll be delighted to know I’ll update you about my sickness in the 8 month blog post about the kiddo!

Til later, fan.

Some Epitaph Choices My Wife Will Reject

I wonder if my hair is long enough that you could make a sweater out of it.

Here lies Spud. Oh ho, and what a spud.

My other epitaph is much nicer.

Death by microwaved meatloaf. Damn it was a good run though, ya’ll.

If a train leaves New Brunswick at 440mph, and another train leaves cause yo mama so fat … How bout that? Insulted by an epitpah.

I hope the Hindus have it right, and that I wasn’t an asshole.

Dig me up, I bet I’m good eating!

Go to the nearest store. Buy a Sprite. Pour it on my gravesite. All of it. When someone yells, ‘HEY! Quit that! Why? Why would you disrespect the dead?!?’ Then you look them square in the eyes and say, ‘out of Sprite.’

Beloved Father, Mother, Husband, Daydreamer, Con Artist, Craft Whiskey Brewer, Liar, and Chicken Pox Survivor. Also great with those balloons you can make into animals.

I donated my internal organs to science, and my external holes to the weirdos. Eat your heart out, necrophiliacs!

Somewhere near you is my soul, making fart noises with my mouth while mooning you. Smell that? It’s me. That last noise wasn’t from my mouth.

I should’ve eaten more foods that were shaped like famous buildings.


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