HELP! Better yet, help us help you or help you help us or something like that. Thanks to you, our readers, and the response you’ve given our advertisers, we’ve doubled in size since our first issue. Our circulation has tripled and we’re working our butts off. It’s time to do some repair work on this old rag. What writers do you like (they stay), not like (off with their heads), new ideas for columns. We can use a few bloggers for our web site, a volunteer to help design and maintain a monthly comedy calendar. Some new writers and cartoonists would be nice. To complete the wish list would be 1 or 2 good—no, make that GREAT—salespeople or a reasonable facsimile to help keep us from asking Congress for a $700,000,000 bailout.

Email: ideas@foolishtimes.net or snail mail Foolish Times, P.O. Box 4046, Monterey, CA 93942.

My folks had me the old-fashioned way: on accident. It didn’t come as a total surprise because they were both taking a fertility drug called Budweiser.

“Warning: Consumption of alcohol may cause and subsequently complicate pregnancy.”

Mom strollered me around as one might the Stanley Cup, announcing my age to strangers: “He’s 52 months, 3 days, 42 minutes, and 12 seconds … 13 … 14 …”

You can imagine my separation issues down the line. We lost our fourth and final babysitter when I threatened to stab her with a fork. Plastic. Mickey Mouse. Read the rest of this article »

I SO want to be Michael Phelps. Oh, not because he’s a demon swimmer, but because he gets to eat 12,000 calories a day! Has to! Every day! That’s close to what I eat in a week!

Can you imagine the guilt-free, unrestrained pig-outs? The unlimited Kentucky Fried Chicken, the chocolate cake, the blueberry muffins, the mint-chip gelato, the mashed potatoes, the chocolate . . . omigod!! Of course, you’d have to work out like a maniac so you wouldn’t gain 300 pounds, but still, just the idea of unabashed food debauchery is very appealing. Read the rest of this article »

You’re a bunch of sickos.

Talk about sick. Look at some of these phobias we have today. I’m not talking about common phobias like Claustrophobia (fear of confined spaces) or Acrophobia (fear of heights). Everybody’s afraid of those.

I’m talking about really strange ones, like Arrhenphobia (fear of men). I dated a girl who had that.

I don’t have any myself. Weird ones, I mean…I wouldn’t call Alfalfaphobia…fear of the late Carl Dean Alfalfa Switzer, the kid with the cowlick on the “Little Rascals.” I just have a touch of it now, mind you. But I wouldn’t call that odd.

What about Celttophobia (fear of Celts)? An ancient tribe of hairy red-headed Micks in bear skins. How many Celts have you run into lately? This is a real phobia. I’m not kidding you. Read the rest of this article »

“Tell me again, why are we taking a yoga class?” Joann asked as she tried to maneuver her body into what felt like the human equivalent of becoming a pretzel.

“To keep us limber and youthful, blending our physical selves with our spiritual selves. And to make our sex lives with our husbands more exciting,” Tanya replied.

“Oh yeah, I forgot—you’re sure this is going to help Larry and me in bed?” Joann said as she assumed the Lotus position. Both of her knees cracked loudly. “Ouch! I’m about as flexible as cast iron stove.”
“In time, you will become a flowing river of flexibility,” Tanya said in what Joann came to think of as her “all-knowing hipper-than-thou” voice. Read the rest of this article »

A man walks through the front door of a bar. He is obviously drunk, and staggers up to the bar, seats himself on a stool and, with a belch, asks the bartender for a drink.

The bartender politely informs the man that it appears he has already had plenty to drink, he could not be served additional liquor at this bar, and could a cab be called for him?

The drunk is briefly surprised, then softly scoffs, grumbles, climbs down off the bar stool, and staggers out the front door.

A few minutes later, the same drunk stumbles through the SIDE door of the bar. He wobbles up to the bar and hollers for a drink. The bartender comes over and, still politely, but more firmly, refuses service to the man due to his inebriation, and again offers to call a cab.

The drunk looks at the bartender for a moment angrily, curses, and shows himself out the side door, all the while grumbling and shaking his head.

A few minutes later, the same drunk bursts in through the BACK door of the bar. He plops himself up on a bar stool, gathers his wits, and belligerently orders a drink.

The bartender comes over and emphatically reminds the man that he is clearly drunk, will be served no drinks, and either a cab or the police will be called immediately.

The surprised drunk looks at the bartender, and in hopeless anguish, cries “MAAAN! How many bars do you work at?”

The cell phone rang in my front pocket as my family and I walked across the clean but car-littered floor.

I thought about not answering it. I hate talking on the telephone in front of people who suddenly look like they want to hurt me.

“What’s so important,” I wonder when I see someone else talking on their cell phone in public, “that you have to tell Joshy Pooh-Pooh you love him when you’re in line at the grocery store buying laxatives?” The cell phone has helped drag courtesy, privacy, and not kicking someone’s ass to a standstill. Read the rest of this article »

October birthdays:
This haunting month is full of ghosts, scarecrows, haunted houses, and parties—birthday parties. But stop telling everyone you see dead people. Yes, it’s your birthday, but you’re not THAT old…

ARIES (3/21-4/19):
Columbus Day celebrates how Christopher Columbus discovered America so that he could inform the Native Americans where they lived. Like Chris, or C.C. as he liked to be called, your poor navigational skills will enable you too to stumble upon the obvious this month. Read the rest of this article »

Sometimes we are better off not knowing some things. Take high cholesterol, for instance. I was doing fine until a few years ago when I was told that mine was off the charts and that I would need to take drugs to get it down (translation: immediately age twenty years and inherit the energy level of an avocado), change my diet (translation: become a rabbit), and exercise more (translation: on second thought, become the Energizer rabbit). It was counterproductive.

Here are their rules:
1. Never eat or drink what you want again or you will DIE (there go my Manhattans, my half and half with my coffee, chocolate, desserts, prime rib, Caesar salads, gelato, scones, butter… and the list goes on). Read the rest of this article »

I found myself holding Rex up to my face—I held him up under his armpits to allow us to stare at each other intently. His nose was almost touching mine as we proceeded in “the game.” The first to blink lost. However, this time I was determined to win: I had eaten thirteen cloves of garlic just before I lifted him to my face.

“Lovely day isn’t it, my friend?” The first blast of garlic breath made him quiver. His face contorted from the odorous shockwave, but he didn’t blink. That dog has staying power! Read the rest of this article »

Two-Line Romantic Poems
The following are entries to a contest by “The Washington Post,” in which respondents had to write a two-line romantic poem…except that the last line had to be as unromantic as the first line was romantic.

1. My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife,
Marrying you screwed up my life.

2. I see your face when I am dreaming.
That’s why I always wake up screaming.

3. Kind, intelligent, loving and hot,
This describes everything you are not.

4. Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,
But I only slept with you because I was pissed.

5. I thought that I could love no other,
That is, until I met your brother. Read the rest of this article »

As a youthful visitor from San Francisco to Pacific Grove during the summer months of the 1970s, I covered much of the Peninsula on my bicycle pulled by my dog, a rat-terrier pointer mix named Bosco.

As an example of wilderness, I found many sights ready to explore for such an adventurous youth in his teens. Bosco, of course, loved perfecting the small trick of disengaging her leash from the handlebars of my bike. This would result in my sudden catapulting into midair, or being hurled against places and objects that are no longer in existence. Read the rest of this article »

Dear Will Fargo,

I am a person who loves a good beat. When I hear a good beat, my foot just gets to tapping and I can’t seem to do anything about it. And then when one foot gets to tapping, my other foot starts feeling left out and so it starts tapping too. And then guess what happens? My fingers start snapping!
So, what’s the problem? I’ll tell you what the problem is. It’s all that good music they play in public places. I can’t even go to the bank anymore because people complained about me tapping my toes and snapping my fingers in line!

I can’t go grocery shopping without people frowning at me and shaking their heads. What is wrong with everyone, Will?! Don’t they feel the beat too? I mean, sometimes even when there’s not a good beat coming over the airwaves I hear one in my head anyway and it all starts up all on its own… like right now!… Read the rest of this article »

Lady Debby and I recently walked into a phone store because she needed a new cell phone. What was wrong with her current cell phone? It was old. Two years old, to be precise. In technological years, that’s the equivalent of a paleontologist unearthing a three-billion-year-old plereioiocdusaurus jawbone.

The first thing I noticed when I began looking at the various phone options is all of the features built into them that have absolutely nothing to do with making phone calls. Call me a purist, but if you need a phone, buy a phone. If you need a camera, buy a camera. If you need a nose hair trimmer, buy a nose hair trimmer…(it’s only a matter of time). Read the rest of this article »

My honey has some excellent qualities, but keeping up with his cell phone is not one of them. He has misplaced his phone so often that I have lost count of the number of times.

The other day it happened again. We were in the car heading home after work when he reached for his phone and it wasn’t there.

“My cell phone is gone!” he exclaimed, as he scrambled around in his pockets while still trying to drive.
“Call the number from my phone and maybe someone will answer.” But it only rang and rang. Either no one found it or whoever found it intended to keep it. Read the rest of this article »

The Question
As a pre-med student, I had to take a difficult class in physics. One day our professor was discussing a particularly complicated concept. A student rudely interrupted to ask, “Why do we have to learn this stuff?”

“To save lives,” the professor responded quickly, and continued the lecture.

A few minutes later, the same student spoke up again. “So how does physics save lives?” he persisted.

“It usually keeps the idiots like you out of medical school,” replied the professor. Read the rest of this article »

Are birthdays aging you? Have toxins in candle smoke and cheap frosting eroded your physical prowess? Well, buck up, fellow silverbacks!! Myriad folks—almost a plethora—now practice…what’s that Chinese exercise? Tie Cheese.

Just kidding, y’all know it’s Chai Tea, though many athletes wonder if sipping tea counts as exercise. But poor muscle tone can result in falls, according to AARP’s Union of Trapeze Artists. Oh, like they’d have a clue. I say we master the nuances of tumbling off a cliff—on purpose! Yup, I’ve applied to a Hollywood stunt school.
Read the rest of this article »