Cartoons

Revolting!

/ Diane Henders / 45 Comments

My sense of humour has been somewhat impaired by yet another dose of frigid -29 degree weather this week, so I decided to go back to the good old standbys that make me laugh no matter what:  wordplay and fart jokes.

(Some might argue that my sense of humour is permanently impaired, but let’s not go there just now.  Moving right along…)

First this:  There’s been a lot of talk in the publishing blogs lately about best-selling author Hugh Howey advocating for indie publishing.  Headlines like “Hugh Howey and the Indie Author Revolt” abound.

And every time I read a headline like that, my brain goes here:

revolting

I know it’s an ancient joke.  I’m pretty sure I first saw it decades ago in The Wizard Of Id comic strip by Brant Parker and Johnny Hart:

Knave rushes up to the king while a mob with pitchforks clamours in the background:  “Sire, the peasants are revolting!”

King:  “Tell them to take a bath.”

(I’m making that up – I don’t actually remember what the king said; I just remember ‘the peasants are revolting’.)  And I don’t know if Parker and Hart were the original creators of that joke, but it makes me chuckle every time I see the word ‘revolt’.

Fart jokes are pretty much guaranteed to make me laugh, too.  There must be a teenage boy walking around somewhere with a 50-year-old woman’s brain in his skull, because I’ve definitely stolen some adolescent male’s sense of humour.

I think I find farts so funny because they’re universal.  I’d be willing to bet there are very few people in the world who haven’t let one slip at an inappropriate time.  And yet, regardless of cataclysmic sound effects and olfactory assaults, nobody ever acknowledges a fart in public.  (Well, unless you’re driving 800 miles with my friend Swamp Butt and me.  But that’s a fool’s mission at best.)

I’m sure we’ve all been trapped in an elevator with a dozen people and one silent-but-deadly fart.  Everyone’s eyes are watering and the tops of their heads are about to blow off from trying to hold their collective breath for twenty-five floors… but nobody reacts.  All eyes forward;  all faces impassive.

We’re all dying, but we won’t show it.  I’m busting a gut trying not to laugh out loud, but you’d never know it by my face.  Then I start wondering if everybody else is trying not to laugh, too, and the urge to laugh becomes almost overpowering.  One of these days I’m just going to guffaw and see if anybody else joins me.

My ex-father-in-law (may his delightful soul rest in peace) had a down-to-earth attitude about such things.

One day he went to Emergency with chest pain.  Since he was a prime heart attack candidate, they got him onto a stretcher right away and hooked him up to various monitors and devices.  No danger signs showed up, but the pain persisted… until he finally belched, farted, and then sat up on the stretcher to declaim, “All systems:  Go!”

The ER staff cracked up.

Revolting?  Well, maybe if you got caught in the blast nimbus, but otherwise it’s the finest fart joke ever executed.  And thinking about it never fails to make me laugh.

Love My Beaver!

/ Diane Henders / 36 Comments

Well, it’s time for another “proud to be Canadian” blog post.  In previous years, my national pride has been stimulated by achievements such as world-champion profanity and the world’s fastest motorized toilet.

Fitting neatly into the topic of stimulation, this year I had originally planned to point out that we Canadians are a sexy bunch.  A recent study showed we indulge in lots of interesting bedroom shenanigans, with threesomes being a popular choice.  After all, it’s cold outside a lot of the time, so what else are we going to do?  But my favourite statistic from the study was this:  apparently 8% of Canadians have had sex in a canoe.

There’s one for my bucket list.  Fortunately, they didn’t specify that the canoe had to be on water to qualify, ‘cause Hubby can’t swim.  I’d offer to keep you posted on our progress, but I’m sure you’d rather not know.  So moving right along…

I had also considered informing birders that Canada is home to the little-known Kiki bird.  Although it’s an extremely common bird, most people in warmer climes have never encountered one.  The Kiki can be spotted year-round in extreme northern Canada, and throughout most of the country during the winter months.

It’s a very large bird, completely flightless, and its plumage varies through every colour of the rainbow, making it impossible to determine its gender at a glance.  You might think this would make it difficult to achieve a positive identification, but it’s instantly recognizable by its distinctive call:  “Ki-ki-ki-riiist, it’s cold!”

All you have to do is step outside whenever the temperature dips below -20 and you’re likely to hear at least one.  Go out in -30 or colder, and you’re guaranteed to hear a chorus.

The Kiki bird (winter plumage)

The Kiki bird (winter plumage)

Either of those things would have been worthy of a “national pride” blog post, but today I’m gratified to report our most significant achievement yet:  everybody sucks the ass of our national animal.

No, seriously.

My blogging buddy Murr Brewster pointed it out back in October, and she’s not even Canadian.  I was buried in writing the final chapters of Book 7 at the time, but it’s one of those things I just have to bring to the attention of my readers, even if I’m a little behind (sorry).

It’s true.  Beaver bum goop (actual words used by National Geographic’s columnist) is used in perfumes and as a food component, particularly in vanilla flavourings.  And beaver butt smells good.  I realize there’s a significant segment of the population that has always insisted beaver smells and/or tastes good; but I always kinda thought it was a subjective and largely gender-based opinion.  Now I stand corrected.  NatGeo says it’s yummy, so I defer to their expertise.

A couple of years ago, one of our senators had the temerity to insult our national animal and suggest we should change it to the polar bear instead.  The backlash was swift and overwhelmingly negative, and no wonder.

After all, what other country can boast that its national animal is industrious, a stellar structural engineer, a devoted spouse, peaceable when left to its own devices, and a formidable fighter when provoked?

In every sense of the expression, its shit doesn’t stink.

Yep, I’m proud to be a Canadian!

They Lied. As Usual.

/ Diane Henders / 25 Comments

Calgary’s location in the shadow of the Rocky Mountains makes the weather so changeable, it’s virtually impossible to predict.  In fact, the stats show our weather forecasts achieve approximately 40% accuracy.  So we use this easy rule of thumb:

weather

Today they promised sunny and 15 (that’s 59 for you Fahrenheit folks).  It’s 9 (48F), windy, cloudy, and spitting rain.  But the other thing you’ll always hear about our weather is “If you don’t like the weather, stick around for 10 minutes”.  It’s early in the day – there’s still hope…

Murphy Strikes Again

/ Diane Henders / 16 Comments

I forgot to schedule this to post automatically in the morning, but I think there’s still time for a Sunday funny.

We just spent the entire weekend harvesting the garden, and my car came back groaning under 700 lbs of potatoes, onions, carrots, pumpkins, and assorted other goodies. I was afraid this cartoon might turn out to be a little too true, but my car made it.  Guess I was safe because I haven’t won the lottery.

luck