Monthly Archives: November 2014

THERE ONCE WAS A MAN FROM NANTUCKET…

There once was a man from Nantucket … who moved to Arizona because he developed a seafood allergy and could no longer stand the way everyone sounded like either the Gorton’s fisherman or upper-crusters from 1930s-era films.

Early in his attempt to assimilate in Arizona, he alienated many locals who hated how he smelled like fish and spoke like an upper-cruster from 1930s-era films. Now that was an ironic kettle/black boomerang if ever there was one!

Not wishing to risk a mental breakdown by dealing with the problem by himself, he swallowed his pride and for once consulted his imaginary wife, whose name changed from fantasy to fantasy. Sometimes, she was the bespectacled pharmacist Sheila with neck tattoos and spikey black hair with purple tips. Sometimes she was the perpetually-randy Janeece, a gynecologist’s assistant who occasionally liked to bring her work home.

This day, she was former nun and current community college adjunct professor of English For Illegals Mary Elizabeth Margaret Catherine, a bit dazed and confused for having just been in a minor traffic accident. He explained his concerns to her but became agitated when she couldn’t focus due to the trauma of her fender-bender (and being imaginary, to boot).

All of this rambling is my clumsy way of wishing you all a HAPPY THANKSGIVING.

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COMA vs. COMMA

I must have been crazy to ask a friend to read and render an opinion about a humor piece I was working on for “Popular Proctology Magazine.” At that point in my life, I was mentally tired and unable to catch sufficient sleep and typos. Unbeknownst to me at the time, my friend — a brilliant physician, medical writer and the guy entrusted with my typos — never proofread his own email correspondence.

The following is an example of one of our email volleys:

Him: You need more comas.
Me: Huh?
Him: I can add them if you lick.
Me: What?
Him: Or if you don’t lick, you can do it yourself.
Me: Even if I was so inclined, I don’t think I could.
Him: Why, are you scarred?
Me: I’m pretty certain I would be if I did what you suggested.
Him: It’s not so bad; I do it all the time.
Me: Your wife is okay with this?
Him: Of course. It saves her the trouble.
Me: ?
Him: ??
Me: I have to go.
Him: Okay, don’t be a strangler.
Me: ????????????????????????????????

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