May Common Sense Rest in Peace
It is with a heavy heart that I inform my Readers of the death of a beloved old friend. Common Sense has recently passed.
Known affectionately to friends as Horse Sense and Sound Thinking, Common Sense selflessly devoted himself to a life of service in homes, schools, hospitals and offices.
He was once reported to have been seen in the halls of Congress, but alas, he hasn’t shown up there in years.
An Obituary in the London Times reported the untimely death of Common Sense. He will long be remembered for the valuable lessons he taught us. Among them:
“Don’t touch that. It’s hot.”
“Come in out of the rain.”
“Don’t run with scissors.”
And “Life isn’t always fair.”
I didn’t see the obituary myself because I haven’t been to London in years, although I have seen all three seasons of Downton Abbey. The death was reported by my friend and fellow Creative Director, Jeffrey Jones. Jeff didn’t originate the obituary, nor did he claim to.
At first, I traced The Death of Common Sense to George Carlin. But Carlin apparently “borrowed” the Obituary from the person who originated the imaginative death notice, author, columnist and speaker, Lori B Bortman.
More on the Death of Common Sense
Common Sense lived a simple life, guided by sound financial policies (“Don’t buy a house you can’t afford.”) Sometimes his advice was confusing and comical. He was known to have uttered, “If you break your leg, don’t come running to me.”
His health began to deteriorate rapidly when parents attacked teachers for doing their job, when a few bad apples in the police departmnet stole from people they were supposed to protect, and when a minority of priests took advantage of the most defenseless among us.
He declined even further when schools were required to get parental consent to administer an aspirin, but couldn’t inform parents when a student sought an abortion.
Common Sense took a beating when homeowners couldn’t defend themselves against a burglar, but burglars could sue them for being attacked.
STAN, WEARING FELIX THE CAT PAJAMAS, WHEELS A COT ONTO THE BLOG. HARRIET STARES AT HIM IN AMAZEMENT.
HARRIET: Nice jammies!
STAN ROLLS BACK THE BLANKET AND SHEET AND GETS UNDER THE COVERS.
STAN: It looks like we’re in for a long one.
HARRIET: Stan, what the Hell are you talking about? And what are you doing?
STAN: What am I doing? What is Goldberger doing? Doesn’t he know that blogs are supposed to be short. 400-500 words. Max! It should just be ‘WHAM! BAM! Thank you, Ma’am.’
HARRIET: ‘Wham! Bam! Thank you Ma’am? Stan do you know you have way of turning everything into a conversation about sex.
STAN: No, I never realized that. But I’m glad we had this little intercourse.
HARRIET: All right, Stan, that’s enough. And it still doesn’t explain the Felix the Cat pajamas and the cot.
STAN: Well, I’m wearing these pjs because my Dr. Dentons are in the laundry.
HARRIET: And the cot?
STAN: Goldberg!!! (HE DELIVERS THE LINE THE WAY SEINFELD SAYS “NEWMAN!!!” He’s at it again. It’s bad enough he can’t write, but does he have to make the blog seemingly go on forever? Does he really think it will hold people’s attention for that long.
HARRIET: Well, you’re still here.
STAN: Right! Like I have a choice.
HARRIET: I see what you mean.
Where was I? Right. In the middle of Common Sense’s obituary. Common Sense finally lost the will to live when a woman failed to realize that a steaming cup of coffee she bought at McDonald’s was H-O-T. She spilled it on herself and won a large judgment because the coffee was, apparently, H-O-T.
Common Sense was preceded in death by his parents, Truth and Trust, by his wife, Discretion, and by two of his children, Responsibility and Reason.
Common Sense is survived by 4 stepbrothers:
- I Know My Rights!
- I Want It Now!
- It’s Not My Fault!
- And I’m A Victim!
- And by a stepsister, What’s in It for Me?
Common Sense will be missed. And also, probably, forgotten.
Two Important Life Lessons
My good friend and a grandfather again and AGAIN, Steve Cline, sent me 5 Important Life Lessons. He didn’t originate these morality stories and I was unable to track down who did. Here are just a couple of those Keith Urban legends that bounce around the Internet from tube to tube.
It Never Hurts to Pay it Forward.
Back in the prehistoric days before there was an iPad (a k a the 1950s), when an ice cream sundae cost much less than it does today, a 10-year-old boy walked into a coffee shop and sat at a table. He was dressed kind of shabbily. His hair wasn’t combed, his jacket was torn and a couple sizes too big for him, suggesting it had been a hand-me-down.
A waitress put a glass of water in front of him.
“Excuse me. Do you have hot fudge sundaes?” he asked.
“The best in town,” said the waitress.
“Does it have a cherry on top?” he inquired.
“Yup, and whipped cream if you want it.”
“Mmmm, that sounds good. How much?” he asked.
“Fifty cents,” replied the waitress.
The little boy squinched up his face, put his hand in his pocket, and pulled out some coins carefully counted the change.
“Well, how much for a dish of plain vanilla ice cream?” he inquired.
By now, more people were waiting for the table and the waitress was growing little impatient.
“Thirty-five cents,” the waitress brusquely replied.
The little boy again counted his coins.
“I’ll just have the plain ice cream in a cone, please,” he said.
The waitress brought the ice cream, put the bill on the table and walked away, a little perturbed the little boy had taken so much time to order.
The boy finished his ice cream, paid the cashier and left.
When the waitress came back, she began to cry as she wiped down the table.
There in a stack, placed neatly beside the empty dish, were 15 pennies. Her tip.
STAN: I don’t get it.
HARRIET: That’s right. And you’re not going to.
STAN: No, no, I was just… Oh, never mind!
Paying it Really Forward
Many years ago, when I was doing PR for a hospital, I got to know a single mother who had two kids, a 7-year old girl named Liz and her 5-year old brother, Henry.
“Why is Liz here?” Henry asked his Mom when Liz was in with her doctor, having some tests taken.
“Liz is suffering from a rare and serious disease,” Henry’s mother explained.
“Is she gonna die?,” Henry asked his mom with a worried look on his face.
“Oh, no, not if she gets a transfusion for someone who has the same blood type she has she’ll be fine.
Liz and her doctor came out of the examination room and the doctor called the mom aside, hoping the kids couldn’t hear what he was saying. (Actually, they could.)
“It’s more serious than I thought,” confided the doctor. “Outside of your family, it’ll be tough to find a qualified donor.”
It looked like Liz’s only chance of recovery was a blood transfusion from her 5-year old brother Henry who had miraculously survived the same disease and had developed the antibodies needed to combat the illness.
The doctor explained the situation to Henry, and asked the little boy if he would be willing to give his blood to his sister.
I saw him hesitate for a moment, take a deep breath and say,”Yes, I’ll do it. I’ll do it if it will save her.”
As the transfusion progressed, Henry lay in bed next to his sister and smiled, as we all did, seeing the color returning to her cheeks.
Then Henry’s face grew pale and his smile faded.
He looked up at the doctor and asked with a trembling voice, “Will I start to die right away?”
It seems Henry had misunderstood the doctor; he thought he was going to have to give his sister all of his blood in order to save her.
The Perils of Drunk Reading: 10 Minutes of Brilliance Sobriety Test
Once again, it has come to my attention some of my Readers are reading my blog when they drunk.
STAN: Can’t blame them for that. That’s probably the only way it makes any sense.
HARRIET: All right, Stan, that’s enough.
Nevertheless, comedy and drinking don’t mix.
STAN: Tell that to Dean Martin, W.C. Fields or some of the performers on Comedy Central.
HARRIET: You don’t know the comedians on Comedy Central are drunk!
STAN: Yeah, you every seen Last Comic Standing?
So as a public service, I would like to provide this 10 Minutes of Brilliance Sobriety Test. To prove you’re not over the legal drinking limit when reading 10 Minutes of Brilliance, first, click anywhere on the photo to call up The Sobriety program. Then carefully take your mouse and see if you can touch the man’s nose. If you can, well, then you pass. If not, you’ll have to come back when your sober.
Here’s How the Fight Started
My wife sat down on the sofa next to me as I was flipping through channels. She asked, “What’s on TV?’”
I said, “Dust.”
And then the fight started…
My wife and I were watching “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire” while we were in bed. I turned to her and said, “Do you want to have sex tonight?”
“No,” she answered.
I then asked her, “Is that your final answer?”
She didn’t even look at me this time, she simply said, “Yes.”
So I said, “Then I’d like to phone a friend.”
And then the fight started….
Saturday morning I got up early, quietly dressed, made my lunch, and slipped quietly into the garage. I hooked up the boat up to the van, and proceeded to back out of the driveway into a torrential downpour. The wind was blowing at 50 mph, so I pulled back into the garage, and decided to go back in my house.
I went back into the house, quietly undressed, and slipped back into bed. I cuddled up to my wife’s back, now with a different anticipation, and whispered, “The weather out there is terrible.”
My loving wife of 37 years replied, “Can you believe my stupid husband is out fishing in that downpour?”
And that’s how the fight started…
My wife was hinting about what she wanted for our upcoming anniversary. She said, “I want something shiny that goes from 0 to 150 in about 3 seconds.”
I bought her a bathroom scale.
And then the fight started…
I went to the Social Security office to apply for Social Security. The woman behind the counter asked me for my driver’s license to
verify my age. I looked in my pockets and realized I had left my wallet at home. I told the woman that I was very sorry, but I would have to go home and come back later.
The woman said, “Unbutton your shirt.” So I opened my shirt revealing my curly silver hair. She said, “That silver hair on your chest is proof enough for me,” and she processed my Social Security application.
When I got home, I told my wife about my experience at the Social Security office.
She said, ‘You should have dropped your pants. You might have gotten disability, too.’
And then the fight started…
My wife and I were sitting at a table at my school reunion, and I kept staring at a drunken lady swigging her drink as she sat alone at a nearby table.
My wife asked, ‘Do you know her?’
“Yes,” I sighed, “She’s my old girlfriend. I understand she took to drinking right after we split up many years ago, and I hear she hasn’t been sober since.”
“My God!” said my wife, “who would think a person could go on celebrating that long?”
And then the fight started…
That’s it for now Readers. I appreciate you’re showing up.
But could you just leave me one comment so In know you’re still out there?Even if you just COMMENT: “I’m hear,” that will mean a lot tome.
Next blog I’ll be writing about how Michelle Bachmann scored a record-breaking 4 Pinocchios for the outright lies she told at the recent C-PAC Convention. And, of course, lots more.
Happy Trails., Readers. Until we meet again.
STAN: Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz! Is it over? Is it finally over?
HARRIET: Yes. Jack just left.
STAN: Oh, damn. I wanted to show Goldberg a magic trick.
HARRIET: Well, you’ll have to wait until the next blog.
STAN: Say, Harriet, you mind if I show the trick to you?
HARRIET: Sure. I guess so. Why not? What’s it called again?
STAN: It’s called, Ta dah, “Hide the Salami.”
HARRIET: Oh, no. Oh, no. I don’t think I want to see that. Now say “Goodnight” Stan
STAN: Goodnight Stan!
HARRIET: Good night Readers. Don’t forget to leave Jack a Comment. You know, for old time’s sake!
HARRIET: WHISPERS TO STAN: Stan, I’ve seen your magic trick before and I think you should change the name.
STAN: Yeah? to what?
HARRIET: When you’re preforming it, Stan, it should be called “Hide the mini cocktail weiner.”
STAN: I never knew you could be so cruel, Harriet.