A lot of people ask me what an editor does. If you find out, let me know. One thing I seem to do quite a bit of is welcome new columnists, and this month is no exception. Giosue’ Santarelli and Jason Offutt have agreed to join our staff, and we couldn’t be happier. Giosue’ is a prolific political columnist, humor columnist, and feature writer who has been scribbling for nearly 40 years. His story “Won’t You Be My Neighbor?” was our cover story for November 2007. Jason has graced us with his humor pieces at various times over the last two years, always to positive reviews from our readers. It’s a pleasure to be able to feature such talented writers on a monthly basis. It certainly makes my job as editor much easier. Speaking of which, I’d better get back to work. Now where’d I put that trombone?

I no longer hate elevators. As a kid growing up in New York it was torturous having to ride 30, 40 or more floors to the sound of Muzak (pumped in, easy listening, brainless, no attention required noise) played on elevators. We used to laugh at the sterile non-offensive soft sounds that would accompany every ride. I can remember joking, “You’ll never hear the Stones or Pink Floyd here.” Was I ever wrong. I don’t quite know when it happened but it did. Last time I was in New York I had to take the elevator to the 39th floor of 500 Fifth Avenue. I was dreading the ride. I was pleased to hear a cut from Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here” album. That is, happy till I heard this twelve- or thirteen-year-old brat—er, child—behind me turn to her friend, laughing, and pointing up to the speaker and saying “I hate elevators!” At least my grandsons think I’m KEWL!

Enjoy!

Due to technical difficulty, I scheduled with Dr. Klope a sperm count. Talk about tedious jobs. Can you see that poor guy over the microscope?
“1,634… 1,635… wait, did I count that one?”

Dr. Klope had one opening, eight a.m., which is way too early for sperm. A man might wake up with driftwood on his beach, but that doesn’t mean he’s ready to make a fire. It’s usually noon before I can swing a French kiss. Read the rest of this article »

Tubby flew into our lives six weeks ago after my sweetheart, Steve, hung up the hummingbird feeder I’d purchased in 1990 but never bothered to put up on the deck.
Within an hour three hummers arrived: Tubby, Susie, and Kevin. Tubby earned his politically incorrect name because of his huge potbelly and because he easily dwarfed the others.

“Good Lord,” I said, when I first spotted him. “How can he fly when he’s so fat? He needs to go to Weight Watchers.” Read the rest of this article »

My daughter and I have your average father-teenage daughter relationship.

She has total disdain for me.

How did I manage to achieve this lofty distinction? I tried to be fair. That must be it. In other words, weak.

I let my daughter get away with exchanges I wouldn’t have dared say to my own father. So I can be proud of the fact that violence and threats and ugliness and hypocritical double standards are not part of our household, like it was in mine when I was a kid. Read the rest of this article »

What is the fascination of children toward pets?

GI Joe and Barbie are good enough to hold the average scurrying rug-rat, but only for a few years. Invariably the subject of having a pet arises. You can run but can’t hide! Having a pet is apparently a prerequisite to becoming an adolescent! It is accompanied by that whiney, grating, noisy, flopping up and down, thrashing on the ground, holding one’s breath until you get what you want scene, and that’s just me protesting! Read the rest of this article »

DATELINE—Monterey, CA
Editor’s note: We at Foolish Times were “fortunate” to have an interview with local mild-mannered gadfly Tom Burns. Previous interviews with Mr. Burns have been taxing to say the least. Once more, he did not let us down. This interview was held on the rocks at Lover’s Point in Pacific Grove. Mr. Burns was wearing a ground squirrel costume. Brace yourself.

FT: Mr. Burns, we understand you have come up with what you consider to be an end to the border problem. Read the rest of this article »

Golf can best be defined as an endless series of tragedies obscured by the occasional miracle, followed by a good bottle of beer.

Golf! You hit down to make the ball go up. You swing left and the ball goes right. The lowest score wins. And on top of that, the winner buys the drinks.

Golf is harder than baseball. In golf, you have to play your foul balls. Read the rest of this article »

I brought home a half-gallon of ice cream from the grocery store. The list from my wife read, “four bananas.” Period. No milk, no eggs, no ice cream. Just bananas.
Normally, to me four bananas means four bananas, but I didn’t write the note. My wife wrote it and I was sure ice cream was hiding in there somewhere. Read the rest of this article »

Once again, procrastination had prevailed. The living room portion of the heater flex-duct under my house had probably collapsed, as I had no heat from the living room floor vent all winter. I hadn’t wanted to crawl under the house in the bitter cold weather, and now that Spring was ready to spring, it was warm enough to go under the house, but I didn’t need the heater anymore. Gee, that was a long sentence, but I wanted to get it all out. Read the rest of this article »

I Love My Job
Next time you have a bad day at work think of this guy.

Rob is a commercial saturation diver for Global Divers in Louisiana.

He performs underwater repairs on offshore drilling rigs.
Below is an e-mail he sent to his sister. She then sent it to radio station 103.2 on FM dial in Ft. Wayne, Indiana, who was sponsoring a worst job experience contest.

Needless to say, she won. Read the rest of this article »

I don’t watch Oprah, but someone sent me a video clip from one of her shows. Every once in a while we get hit by a lightning bolt and I guess I got lucky that day.

Her guest (and I forgot his name) was talking about relationships and suggested that one of the reasons why we single folks don’t have a partner is perhaps because our reasons for staying single outweigh our need for being coupled. Read the rest of this article »

March Birthdays
Your birthday this month can only be described as March Madness, a twenty-day birthday celebration that begins in March and ends sometime in April.

ARIES (3/21-4/19):
For you, March comes in like a lion and goes out like a lamb. This means you behave like you’re the king of the jungle, your tail ends in a hairy tuft, and you have inexplicable midnight cravings for large mammals like buffalo wings, followed by licking, purring, and resting for twenty hours a day in early March, whereas late March finds you in need of a good shearing. Read the rest of this article »

Quiz: Describe iPod, Blackberry, Napster, Blue Tooth, and ear buds.

Time’s up! Did you get three or more? Well, goodie gumdrops for you, Smarty Pants. But if you guessed fruit, sleep, stained dentures, or earlobe growths—gimmee five, dude! And in my world, an iPod is a clutch of self-absorbed whales. Read the rest of this article »

Dear Will,
Whenever I am in an automated bathroom (you know, with automatic flushers, toilet seat covers, faucets, soap dispensers, hand dryers, towel dispensers), I wave my hand over and over, jump up and down, whatever… but the automated devices never respond. It’s as if I’m not even there.

Also, it seems like whenever I’m out in public people completely ignore me. They step right in front of me in the grocery store, turn right in front of me when I’m driving, and cut me off mid-sentence when I’m talking. Read the rest of this article »

What if, along with your regular 11 issues of “Martha Stewart Living,” once a year the magazine sent you “The Mailman Issue” filled with pictures of dashing, shirtless postal workers ducking secretively into suburban homes? Then, my friends, women would finally be equal to men. Read the rest of this article »

Some good jokes with a couple of so-so jokes thrown in to fill space.

The Hangover
Jack wakes up with a huge hangover after attending his company’s Christmas Party. Jack is not normally a drinker, but the drinks didn’t taste like alcohol at all. He didn’t even remember how he got home from the party.

As bad as he was feeling, he wondered if he did something wrong. Jack had to force himself to open his eyes, and the first thing he sees is a couple of aspirins next to a glass of water on the side table. And, next to them, a single red rose! Read the rest of this article »