Comedic Genes

Am I funny?

No, I’m not fishing for compliments, I assure you. That, my readers, is a rhetorical question which stems partly from that region of my psyche that doubts everything about me.

My humor being the source of my most prolific angst.

Insecurity, for some reason, is a by product of wit. At least I think it is. The one thing that behaviorists can’t quite put their fingers on is which comes first: are funny people funny because they’re insecure OR….do insecure people use humor as a crutch to combat the insecurity?

It’s a conundrum that has plagued philosophers and noted thinkers since the Ancients first gathered in the round to laugh at the comedy stylings of Sheckyus Greenus.

Personally, I think wit is an innate gift; something you’re born with.  God given.   Genetically predisposed by generations of funny simians turned cro-mags turned protein eaters turned homos modernos.

Yessir, I think truly funny people have it in their DNA double helix,  that twisting mobius strip that’s loaded with those specific chromosomes that make us who and what we are.    We’re talking genes, X…Y…and that H one.

H for hilarious.

I’m lucky. I come from funny stock.

I’m told that I was a funny kid. I know when my sense of humor was defined and in a sense, refined. I was 12 and in the 7th grade. By eighth grade, I was something of a younger, more shiksa version of Totie Fields.

My mother is funny. My oldest sister Kathy does physical comedy very well. When Karol, Kathy and I get together and we’ve all had a few drinks, the comedy, doth flow.

I have funny cousins and I had funny aunts and uncles.

Most of them were already old and had lived full lives by the time my parents decided to try for their third and final child.

My father wanted a boy and I was the last chance for him to get that son he always wanted.

What he got was a daughter who had penis envy for about three days when I was seven. That was as close as it got.

Sorry Pops.

But funny family members were strewn all about the Crews and Kendrick sides.

Take my Uncle Ralph and Aunt Peg.

They married late; never had kids. He was Jewish. She wasn’t. They fought and yelled and screamed and to listen to their tirades was truly funny. Saturday Night Live caliber (the Aykroyd/Gilda Radner years, thank you very much!!). I vaguely remember them, but I know that deep down inside, despite the arguments and teasing and name calling, they adored each other. She was the cup to his saucer; he was the reason she woke up every morning.

Peg was short. Peg was also dynamite. Uncle Ralph was the fuse. They were innocuous apart….EXPLOSIVE together.

But they loved…and they lived and they laughed.

Peg was a devoted partner. She’d spent the last part of her life, as Uncle Ralph’s wife and took care of him, especially when he fell ill. In his latter years, he was suffering from renal failure and had been in a coma for almost twol weeks. Peg never left his side. She was at the hospital every day. She held his hand and talked to him as if he was lucid.

One afternoon…it was on a Wednesday….the sun crept through the hospital window and illuminated Ralph’s face and I remember Aunt Peg saying it was as though the light was healing; as if generated by the Good Lord himself specifically for Uncle Ralph.

He slowly opened his eyes, wincing in the sunlight. He blinked a few times, trying to absorb where he was and what was happening to him. He pointed at his oxygen mask and Aunt Peg helped him remove it. His voice was weak and hoarse.

“Where the hell am I?”

“You’re in the hospital Ralph and you’re sick. Your kidneys are failing and you’ve been unconscious for more than a week now”.

Aunt Peg stroked his forehead as she spoke.

“Ah jeez….I don’t feel so good.”

“I know Ralph, but we’re going to get through this. I’m not going anywhere. In fact, I’ve hardly left this hospital room since you were admitted last week”.

Ralph lay there for a minute, gathering his thoughts. He then motioned for Peg to come closer.

“Yes Ralph?”

“You know what, Peg? I just realized something. You’ve been with me all through the bad times. When I got fired from my job at the railroad, you were there to support me. When my business failed, you were there. through bankruptcy, too. And in a way, you were there when I got a piece of shrapnel stuck in my back and it almost nicked my spine because I was reading one of your letters back during the big one, W-W-Two. When we lost the house and my truck, you supported me and here I am, on death’s door, I suppose, and here you are, right by my side…like always”.

“That’s right, Ralph, I’ve always been right here by your side”.

“Well, you know what, Peggy?”

“What Ralph…what is it?”

“Get the hell away from my bed, you goddamn jinx whore!!”

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The bruises on Uncle Ralph’s neck were barely visible after the mortician artfully covered them with make-up..

Redneck Calamari

Pleeze scuze Tommy cuz he be illin’

These are real excuses written by parents and submitted to administrators at several public schools throughout Tennessee (spellings and phrasing have been left intact)

Oh and much love to my brilliant friends and Vols at that great and venerable blog, Six Meat Buffet. I mean no disrespect with this post.

Well, maybe a little…..

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1. My son is under a doctor’s care and should not take PE today. Please execute him.

2. Please exkuce Lisa for being absent she was sick and I i done had her shot.

3. Dear school: please ecsc’s John being absent on jan. 28, 29, 30, 31, 32 and also on the 33.

4. Please excuse Gloria from Jim today. She is administrating something fierce.

5. Please excuse Roland from p.e. for a few days. Yesterday he fell out of a tree and misplaced his hip.

6. John has been absent because he had two teeth taken out of his face.

7. Carlos was absent yesterday because he was playing football. He was hurt in the growing part.

8. Megan could not come to school today because she has been bothered by very close veins.

9. Chris will not be in school cus he has an acre in his side.

10. Please excuse Ray Friday from school. He has very loose vowels.

11. Please excuse Pedro from being absent yesterday. He had (diahre, dyrea, direathe), the sh**s. [note: words in ( )'s were crossed out, as you see here] .

12. Please excuse Tommy for being absent yesterday. He had diarrhea, and his boots leak.

13. Irving was absent yesterday because he missed his bust.

14. Please excuse Jimmy for being. It was his father’s fault.

15. I kept Billie home because she had to go Christmas shopping because I don’t know what size she wear.

16. Please excuse Jennifer for missing school yesterday. We forgot to get the Sunday paper off the porch, and when we found it Monday. We thought it was Sunday.

17. Sally won’t be in school a week from friday. We have to attend her funeral.

18. My daughter was absent yesterday because she was tired. She spent a weekend with the marines.

19. Ple ase excuse Jason for being absent yesterday. He had a cold and could not breed well.

20. Please excuse Mary for being absent yesterday. She was in bed with gramps.

21. Gloria was absent yesterday as she was having a gangover.

22. Please excuse Brenda. She has been sick and under the doctor.

23. Maryann was absent december 11-16, because she had a fever,sore throat, headache and upset stomach. Her sister was also sick,fever an sore throat, her brother had a low grade fever and ached all over. I wasn’t the best either, sore throat and fever. There must be something going around, her father even got hot last night.

How you say……?

What you are about to read (courtesy of a blog which calls itself, MoronLand) is a listing of some of the worst marketing ideas certain Madison Avenue “brain trusts” have ever had.

These are real, by God items that we all know and love and use but somehow their relevance and main purpose got lost in translation when they were marketed in other countries .

These are some of the worst of the worst:

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When Parker Pen marketed a ball-point pen in Mexico, its ads were supposed to have read, “It won’t leak in your pocket and embarrass you.” The company thought that the word “embarazar” (to impregnate) meant to embarrass, so the ad read: “It won’t leak in your pocket and make you pregnant.”..

Scandinavian vacuum manufacturer Electrolux used the following in an American campaign: “Nothing Sucks like an Electrolux.”..

Clairol introduced the “Mist Stick,” a curling iron, into Germany only to find out that “mist” is slang for manure. Not too many people had use for the “Manure Stick.”

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Coors put its slogan, “Turn It Loose,” into Spanish, where it was read as “Suffer From Diarrhea.”

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Pepsi’s “Come Alive With the Pepsi Generation” translated into “Pepsi Brings Your Ancestors Back From the Grave” in Chinese.

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When Gerber started selling baby food in Africa, they used the same packaging as in the US, with the smiling baby on the label. Later they learned that in Africa, companies routinely put pictures on the labels of what’s inside, since many people can’t read.

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Colgate introduced a toothpaste in France called Cue, the name of a notorious porno magazine.

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.Frank Perdue’s chicken slogan, “It takes a strong man to make a tender chicken,” was translated into Spanish as “it takes an aroused man to make a chicken affectionate.”

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.When American Airlines wanted to advertise its new leather first class seats in the Mexican market, it translated its “Fly In Leather” campaign literally, which meant “Fly Naked” (vuela en cuero) in Spanish.

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.An American T-shirt maker in Miami printed shirts for the Spanish market which promoted the Pope’s visit. Instead of “I saw the Pope” (el Papa), the shirts read “I Saw the Potato” (la papa).

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The Dairy Association’s huge success with the campaign “Got Milk?” prompted them to expand advertising to Mexico. It was soon brought to their attention the Spanish translation read “Are You Lactating?”

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General Motors had a very famous fiasco in trying to market the Nova car in Central and South America. “No va” in Spanish that roughly translates to, “It Doesn’t Go”.

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.The Coca-Cola name in China was first read as “Kekoukela”, meaning “Bite the Wax Tadpole” or “Female Horse Stuffed with Wax”, depending on the dialect. Coke then researched 40,000 characters to find a phonetic equivalent “kokoukole”, translating into “Happiness in the Mouth.”

Don’t Step On A Duck

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Three women die together in an accident and go to heaven.

When they get there, St. Peter says, “We only have one rule here in heaven: don’t step on the ducks!”

So they enter heaven, and sure enough, there are ducks all over the place. It is almost impossible not to step on a duck, and although they try their best to avoid them, the first woman accidentally steps on one.

Along comes St. Peter with the ugliest man she ever saw.

St. Peter chains them together and says, “Your punishment for stepping on a duck is to spend eternity chained to this ugly man!”

The next day, the second woman steps accidentally on a duck and along comes St. Peter, who doesn’t miss a thing. With him is another extremely ugly man. He chains them together with the same admonishment as for the first woman.

The third woman has observed all this and, not wanting to be chained for all eternity to an ugly man, is very, VERY careful where she steps.

She manages to go months without stepping on any ducks, but one day St. Peter comes up to her with the most handsome man she has ever laid eyes on … very tall, long eyelashes, muscular, and thin.

St. Peter chains them together without saying a word.

The happy woman says, “I wonder what I did to deserve being chained to you for all of eternity?”

The guy says, “I don’t know about you, but I stepped on a duck!”

Stereotypes

Four men were walking down the street, a Saudi, a Russian, a North Korean, and a New Yorker. A reporter comes running up and says, “Excuse me, what is your opinion about the meat shortage?”

The Saudi says, “Excuse me, what’s a shortage?”

The Russian says, “Excuse me, what’s meat?”

The North Korean says, “Excuse me, what’s an opinion?”

The New Yorker says, “Excuse me? What’s excuse me?”

See what I mean?

This isn’t necessarily a joke about Saudi Arabians who don’t know shortages…or about Russians who do.

It’s not exactly about North Koreans who’ve never been able to vocalize a thought or an opinion without the fear of sinister retribution.

It’s about the rudeness of New Yorkers.

I’m talking about the classic “Fuck off, I could give a shit about you and the world” New York City resident. We’ve all heard about them. We’ve seen them in TV shows; portrayed on stage and in films. They are rude and inconsiderate and as apathetic as the day is long.

Case in point: The Kitty Genovese Story

Phenominal tale, really and one that’s been beguiling the collective American psyche and to some degree, psychologists and sociologists.

It was about 3:15 on the morning of March 13, 1964 when Kitty Genovese arrived home. She found a parking spot about 100 her apartment building’s front door. But she never made it. She was grabbed by Winston Moseley, a Business Machine Operator, but Genovese broke free and Moseley ran after her and quickly overtook her, stabbing her twice in the back. Genovese screamed out, “Oh my God, he stabbed me! Help me!” It was heard by several neighbors; but on a cold night with the windows closed, only a few of them recognized the sound as a cry for help. When one of the neighbors shouted at the attacker, “Leave that girl alone!”, Moseley ran away and Genovese slowly made her way towards her own apartment around the end of the building. She was seriously injured, but now out of view of those few who may have had reason to believe she was in need of help.

Records of the earliest calls to police are unclear and were certainly not given a high priority by the police. One witness said his father called police after the initial attack and reported that a woman was “beat up, but got up and was staggering around.”

Other witnesses observed Moseley enter his car and drive away, only to return ten minutes later. In his car, he changed his hat to a wide-rimmed one to shadow his face. He systematically searched the parking lot, train station, and small apartment complex, ultimately finding Genovese, who was lying, barely conscious, in a hallway at the back of the building. Out of view of the street and of those who may have heard or seen any sign of the original attack, he proceeded to stab her several more times. While she lay dying, he sexually assaulted her. He stole about $49 from her and left her dying in the hallway…all of which happened within a 30-minute time frame. During the last attack, a neighbor at the top of the stairs, reportedly opened his front door and watched the attack without doing anything to stop it.

A few minutes after the final attack, a witness, Karl Ross, called the police. Police and medical personnel arrived within minutes of Ross’ call; Genovese was taken away by ambulance and died en route to the hospital. Later investigation by police and prosecutors revealed that approximately a dozen ( individuals nearby had heard or observed portions of the attack.

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Winston Moseley, was later apprehended in connection with burglary charges; he confessed not only to the murder of Kitty Genovese, but to two other murders, both involving sexual assaults. Subsequent psychiatric examinations suggested that Moseley was a necrophiliac. He was convicted of murder andsentenced to death. His last parole hearing was held March 11th of this year. He was denied parole again…for the 13th consecutive time.

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The circumstances of Kitty Genovese’s murder and the apparent reaction of her neighbors were reported by a newspaper article published two weeks later and prompted investigation into the psychological phenomenon that became known as the “Bystander Effect” or “Genovese Syndrome”.

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Public opinion backed this up.

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Many saw the story of Genovese’s murder as an example of the callousness or apathy supposedly prevalent in New York City, urban America and humanity in general. The opinion surrounding the quintessential apathetic New Yorker has been around a long time…but seemed to find a permanent label after Kitty Genovese’s tragic murder.

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Doing nothing is also an option and by doing nothing, we often aid and abet the culprit. Whether that’s looking the other way when someone commits a crime or choosing to stay in an abusive relationship, but if you stay, you contribute to your own hell.

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Indecision is a decision..

We embrace apathy because apathy is a fear of commitment- and if we commit ourselves to do good, we have higher expectations of ourselves- and that can be a heavy load.

Still, when all is said and done, commitment always bears unexpected fruit. We may have to nourish that commitment, tend the tree and at times, even prune it. But it’s beauty is the reward. All those things–the effort put forth constitute a small price to pay for a better and fuller life..

But the choice is ALWAYS yours.

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As for the rude callousness, the heartlessness and abject apathy of New Yorkers?

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New York is a huge city. New Yorkers know that keeping to yourself sometimes ensures survival–see no evil; pretend to hear no evil, etc. and sadly, there are some take that to extremes. So, yeah sure; there are a few bad apples that dwell in that Big Shiny Red One that crowns the Hudson, but didn’t we applaud the New York City everyman who jumped on the subway tracks recently to save the life of a fellow citizen who’d fallen as a train approached? When asked why he did it; why he risked his life for a total stranger, his response was because “it was the right thing to do”.

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And beyond that, the world got a good idea of the size of New Yorkers’ hearts, the extent of their compassion and their empathy after witnessing two jetliners crash into the World Trade Center. What happened on that balmy September morning almost seven years ago was so profoundly different than the Kitty Genovese case. On that fateful day, New Yorkers wanted to help so badly, but they could do absolutely nothing but sit idly by and watch almost three thousand of their fellow residents die a most gruesome death.

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Pretty Is As Pretty Does

Late Sunday morning is my favorite time to go grocery shopping and for two reasons:

1) there are food samples out if you go early enough, thus eliminating the need for breakfast and/or brunch and

2) you can beat the Protestants by going early.

I like to shop at a particular grocery store not far from a very affluent Houston neighborhood. River Oaks is a premier enclave in every sense of the word. It’s residents include doctors, judges, oil barons, venture capitalists with amazing business acumen–and a lot of luck. There are business execs and of course, very successful lawyers. Then, there’s the requisite smattering of dowagers who married well and live next door to divorcees who wisely followed their neighbors’ legal expertise. River Oaks people live in these huge, palatial estates with exquisitely manicured laws and intense security. It’s clear who they’re trying to keep out, but sometimes you wonder what it is they’re trying to keep in.

You can spot a River Oaks resident from a mile away. They have a countenance about them that screams poise and tact and money…a lot of money and all the effortless ease that can buy.

I parked my proletariat chariot in the closest parking space I could find. I got out and started walking toward the front door. I passed a woman…I’d say in her early to mid 30’s and breathtakingly gorgeous. Let me say here and now that I am as heterosexual as Roddy McDowell was gay, but even I can recognize beauty and amazing sex appeal in my own gender. I was struck by her looks. She was perfection. Blond, shoulder-length hair, casually dressed, but incredibly put together. There was an elegance about her…even in blue jeans.

Her face looked flawless; air brushed by nature.

As she exited her late model Mercedes, I had to chuckle. She’s what we Texans call “well healed and well wheeled”. She removed her Hermes Berkin purse from the passenger seat then opened the back door to retrieve the young two-year- old son, the heir apparent to the throne. Not a word was spoken, no sound was made as she plucked her son from his car seat then carried him toward the door in her well toned arms.

Life obviously came easy to her.

She was a classic trophy wife with River Oaks written all over her. I bet her name was Brin or Erin or Meg…some cute and pithy Ivy League meets Magnolia blossoms nick name. I watched her as she walked. She glided. She also seemed to glow in the sunlight. I tried to find a flaw, but couldn’t. And trust me, I looked. The worst thing about her was probably that which didn’t come standard. On closer visual inspection, it was evident that she had manufactured boobs; thighs and hips that were bought and paid for and an ass that was no doubt, leveraged to the hilt–in more ways than one.

She was the kind of woman that would make other women feel insidiously dirty and ugly. I looked down at my legs. I missed a two inch patch of hair on my left shin when I shaved this morning. It glistened in the sunlight and seem to strobe with every step I took as if to read in flashing neon, SLOB…SLOB…SLOB.

I looked down at my hands; there were I swear to God, two more age spots than there were three days ago and my two week old manicure was flaking off. As I walked, I could feel my spine compress and grow porous due to an age-related calcium deficiency. I felt ugly and fat and tacky. I refused to look at my reflection in windows as I entered the store. I don’t think I could’ve handled that.

Once inside, I mercifully forgot about my flaws as I got into my shopping.

Meat….chicken thighs…cheese…Doritios…risotto , couscous and a case of bottled water. I was debating whether I should by a few cans of cheese ravioli—my carb laden passion at three cans for five dollars– when Mrs. Perfect strolled by. In her cart there was nothing healthy stuff; expensive healthy stuff. I scratched that idea and the itch on my chin and was rewarded by feeling a peri-menopausal whisker growing out of it.

Great.

I got everything I needed and checked out. As I wheeled my cart to my car , I saw her; Mrs. Perfect back at her silver colored Benz, glaring impatiently as a Hispanic stock boy was putting her groceries in her trunk. She was barking out orders on where to put things.

“No, not like that!”

She rudely grabbed a bag out of his hand and put it in herself. She then grabbed something out of the plastic bag and just tossed the bag on the ground. She didn’t care who saw her, she just threw it down. The breeze carried it across the parking lot.

“Hurry up. Are you always this slow?”

The stock boy said nothing and continued to dutifully put the bags away.

At the end, she said nothing.. just slammed the trunk down, barely missing his hand and without a thank you, she got back in her car—with her groceries in the trunk; her progeny safely in the backseat, she was heading back to perfection—her beautiful home and her beautiful life.

My heart ached for the stock boy. He was just trying to eek out a living. I parked my cart behind my car and shouted in his direction.

“Excuse me, Sir?”

He stopped.

I reached into my purse and grabbed a couple of dollar bills then gave them to him. He looked confused.

“What’s this for?” he asked.

“Because you deserve it.”

I think he understood. He just smiled, nodded his head and said, “Thank you”.

That’s when the silver Mercedes roared by us and out of parking lot, cutting off a Buick that was headed toward the same exit. The Buick stopped; the Mercedes never did. It’s driver never learned how to give right of way. She probably never had to learn.

She had the 65-thousand dollar car and the eight thousand dollar purse, yet she couldn’t afford to be magnanimous?

“How sad”, I thought to myself as I watched her drive down Westheimer.

I put my groceries in the trunk and got in my car and just sat there for a minute, absorbing all that I’d just witnessed.

I was struck by how ugly some beautiful people can be.

I started my car and drove my hairy legs and chipped nail polish home to happy imperfection….a wonderful life for which I am perfectly suited.

Mein Gott!!!!

May Poppins goes urban:

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What’s next?

Just a spoon full of smack?

Chim-chimaree-chim-chimaree–I gotta shiv?

Feed the birds–tuppence a muthu fuckin’ bag?

Yea!!! A Quiz

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The answers are listed below and don’t cheat, you bastards.

Let me know how you did.

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1. The maker doesn’t want it; the buyer doesn’t use it; and the user doesn’t see it. What is it?

2. A child is born in Boston, Massachusetts to parents who were both born in Boston, Massachusetts. The child is not a United States citizen. How is this possible?

3. Before Mount Everest was discovered, what was the highest mountain on Earth?

4. Clara Clatter was born on December 27th, yet her birthday is always in the summer. How is this possible?

5. Captain Frank and some of the boys were exchanging old war stories. Art Bragg offered one about how his grandfather led a battalion against a German division during World War I. Through brilliant maneuvers, he defeated them and captured valuable territory. After the battle he was presented with a sword bearing the inscription “To Captain Bragg for Bravery, Daring and Leadership. World War I. From the Men of Battalion “Captain Frank looked at Art and said, “You really don’t expect anyone to believe that yarn, do you?” What’s wrong with the story?

6. What is one thing that all wise men, regardless of their religion or politics, agree is between heaven and earth?

7. In what year did Christmas and New Year’s fall in the same year?

8. Why are 1990 American dollar bills worth more than 1989 American dollar bills?

9. A farmer has 17 sheep and all but 9 die. How many are left?

10. How many times can you subtract the number 5 from 25?

11. How could you rearrange the letters in the words “new door” to make one word? Note: There is only one correct answer.

12. Even if they are starving, natives living in the Arctic will never eat a penguin’s egg. Why not?

13. Which is correct to say, “The yolk of the egg are white” or “The yolk of the egg is white”?

14. In Okmulgee, Oklahoma, you cannot take a picture of a man with a wooden leg. Why not?

15.There were an electrician and a plumber waiting in line for admission to the International Home Show,” One of them was the father of the other’s son. How could this be possible?

16. A butcher in the butcher shop is 5′ 10″ tall. What does he weigh?

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*ANSWERS*

.1. A coffin.

2. The child was born before 1776.

3. Mount Everest (it just hadn’t been discovered).

4. Clara lives in the southern hemisphere.

5. World War I wasn’t called “World War I” until World War II.

6. The word “and”.

7. They fall in the same year every year. New Year’s Day just arrives very early in the year and Christmas arrives very late in the same year.

8. One thousand nine hundred and ninety dollar bills are worth one dollar more than one thousand nine hundred and eighty-nine dollar bills.

9. Nine.

10. Only once, and then you are subtracting it from 20.

11. “One word”

12. Penguins live in the Antarctic.

13. Neither. The yolk of the egg is yellow.

14. You have to take a picture of a man with a camera, not with a wooden leg.

15. They were husband and wife.

16. Meat.

Life’s Like That…Sometimes