All Entries Tagged With: "humor"

Trotsky vuelve a allanar en Miami

ESTADO DEL SOL Panhandler – 25 de febrero 2015
León Trotsky, el ex mandamás comunista creía muerto desde 1930, tiene ha identificado en una lavandería de Miami, donde dio un encendido discurso sobre los males del capitalismo y la estática mientras sus calzoncillos estaban secando. Las autoridades locales, avisó a su presencia por un mecánico secador de Ucrania, llegaron tarde a la escena falta el revolucionario de ojos salvajes que habían estado buscando “un barco camaronero de Managua” a principios de esa misma mañana.
“Tenemos la sospecha de algún tipo de operación de lavado de dinero comunista está en los trabajos,” inflado un detective. “Toda la evidencia no está en pero digamos que el Sr. Trotsky fue” lavado “más que sus pantalones cortos.”
Mientras tanto, en Managua, el presidente Daniel Ortega ha condenado la Administración Obama por lo que él llama las intrusiones de provocación en el perímetro de una nación soberana. Ortega dice que Estados Unidos ha empleado quitanieves drones mononucleares en las zonas montañosas cerca de Estelí, donde el último polvo reportado fue en 1915.
En una respuesta cortante, un portavoz del Departamento de Estado negó cualquier conocimiento de drones que dicen que si hay dispositivos mononucleares fueron enviados a Nicaragua se debió a una falta dentro del departamento de compras a través de la CIA.
“No hablamos y la CIA no comparte mucha información con el FBI o de la Administración”, continuó. “La casa no envía información sensible al Senado y el Pentágono mantiene estricto secreto en los documentos clasificados en su bóveda. La NSA está preocupado acerca de las posibles fugas en el IRS y se niega a devolver las llamadas telefónicas. La CIA no confía en la competencia del FBI y la CIA tiene miedo de que el FBI va a micro-administrar los datos y así exponer a los contactos internacionales de larga nutridas. Así es como mantenemos un control estricto “.
Ninguna de las agencias le importaba a comentar sobre cómo y por qué Trotsky estaba en Miami, si en realidad fue incluso Trotsky en absoluto. – Boca Chica Bess

Perniquism’s Grill

By Doug Fergus — February 25, 2015
Poernilp Perniquism owned a small coffee shop on Rednammoc Ave in Nomericemick City. His wife Yazznip was the head waitress. His two daughters Roagun and Wabint were also employed there in various capacities. Besides doing the books Poernilp was also the cook. He had grown a small potbelly from tasting his creations over the three years that the restaurant had been in operation. He loved to cook. He was as happy standing behind the grill as a pig standing in mud or a little boy eating his own buggers or Blindex Quixtoy bending over at the waist to smell his own armpits.
Yazznip and the girls had remained slim from humping plates of food each day. Yazznip looked very good for a woman of her age. Poernilp had fallen in love with Yazznip and her dazzling figure when she was just a cute 18-year-old. She still had the same shape 35-20-18.
Nearly very morning local construction workers would descend on the eatery for breakfast. They would compete for the attention of Roagun and Wabint by making various animal sounds using utensils, napkins and salt shakers, The loudest and most recalcitrant of all was Snerp Zootmilton who would yell out, “Hey Roagie, get a load of these apples…EEEEP, EEEEEEP, Ssigen, ssigen…ZOODN, ZOODN, AHP-AHP-AHP, CORRRRTORDLE! Pre good, huh? Pre good?”
Roagun had come to realize that the only way to calm Snerp down was to try to guess the animal he was currently imitating and often even impersonating.
“Het Snerp, I’ll bet that was a rabbit-toed frog hawk, right?” she would smile.
“Wrong again Roagie,” Snerp squealed with delight. “That was my ’63 Corvair right before the engine ate it comin’ up Floochiman’s Grade!”
Poernilp constantly scanned the dining room, peering out behind the stainless steel counter top and the heats lamps. He watched primarily to make sure none of his rowdy customers got physical with Roagun and Wabint. If any of the boisterous bolides so much as brushed one of his daughters, Poernilp would shout from the kitchen, “Hey Hey Hey! You wanna squeeze tissue go to the supermarket!”
During these explosions Poernilp would spay saliva all over the hot grill in front of him. It would land in tiny beads, dance for a moment on the hot metal then soak into the grilled cheese or the fried eggs, or whatever was cooking at the time. Poernilp would then say to himself, “What the hell. I’m healthy. I take vitamins. I take care of myself. It’s good, nutritious spit….probably do some of these malnourished bums some good.”

Sugar, nutmeg, honey, darling molasses
You make me feel like a million lemon cookies
baking in a 10,000-degree oven.

Cake, pie, maple syrup, paprika, doughnut holes.
When you touch me, I feel like strawberries
are surging through my veins.

Banana pudding, oregano, sugar substitute, vanilla extract
You are such a sweet thing
I bet your heart is filled to the brim with whipped cream.
– from The Song of Poernilp

Trotsky Resurfaces in Miami

SUNSHINE STATE PANHANDLER – Feb 25, 2015
Leon Trotsky, former Commie bigwig believed dead since the 1930s, has
been identified at a Miami Laundromat where he gave a fiery speech on the evils of capitalism and static cling while his boxer shorts were drying. Local authorities, tipped off to his presence by a Ukrainian dryer mechanic, arrived late on the scene missing the wild-eyed revolutionary who had been searching for “a shrimp boat to Managua” earlier that same morning.
“We suspect some kind of commie money laundering operation is in the works,” puffed a detective. “All of the evidence is not in but let’s just say Mr. Trotsky was “washing” more than his shorts.”
Meanwhile in Managua, President Daniel Ortega has condemned the Obama Administration for what he calls provocative intrusions into the perimeter of a sovereign nation. Ortega says the United States has employed mononuclear drone snowplows in the mountainous areas near Estelí where the last reported dusting was back in 1915.
In a curt response, a State Department spokesperson denied any knowledge of drones saying that if any mononuclear devices were sent to Nicaragua it was due to a foul up within the purchasing department over at the CIA.
“We don’t talk and the CIA doesn’t share much information with the FBI or the Administration,” she continued. “The House doesn’t send sensitive information to the Senate and the Pentagon keeps tight wraps on classified documents in its vault. The NSA is concerned as to possible leaks in the IRS and refuses to return phone calls. The CIA does not trust the competency of the FBI and the CIA is afraid that the FBI will micro-manage data and thus expose long nurtured international contacts. That’s how we maintain strict control.”
None of the agencies cared to comment on how and why Trotsky was in Miami, if it fact in was even Trotsky at all. – Small Mouth Bess

Searching for thin, blonde woman named “Pepper”. – Salt Walter, Maher.

Los Angeles Restaurateur Intros Time Sharing

(Mulholland Tunnel — February 25, 2015) Time-sharing has invaded the booths and the barstools of many of this city’s favorite eating and drinking spots on the circuit. Chef-Owner Tommy Toaste, the man who originated the concept says the progression was inevitable.
“It’s just like sharing anything else,” he smiled. “The price reflects the specific arrangement made and the willingness of the patron to plan ahead. The restaurant knows how many guests it will serve and the diner commits to an expanded time frame. Everyone wins.”
Here’s how she works: Say a fellow in Boston buys a share in a restaurant that specializes in seafood. Chances are that he won’t eat there every night. So, in his absence someone else will be sipping his chowder. Now say the same guy goes to Milwaukee on business and takes his lovely wife along. He simply checks with his broker who locates suitable bar stools. Then the arriving couple can begin slamming beers upon arrival without spending precious time looking for the right bar.
A circus clown in Omaha trades his prime rib stock for sushi shares in the Bay Area while a lady roller derby standout swaps gumbo credits in New Orleans for a tuna steak in Seattle. International travelers can look forward to trading a leg of lamb in Athens for a chilidog experience in Cincinnati. Kimchi for haggis anyone?
“It’s all measured at BPM or bites per minute,” explained Toaste. “An active time sharer accumulates points that can be spent like cash in participating eateries. Then when he travels across the globe or across the street he is covered. We are a reputable group,” he went on, “and have never condoned eating off another person’s plate.” -Small Mouth Bess

One of the finest chicken joints in Bogota?

Popular eatery in Bogota, Colombia
(Photo by David Mullings-Used without permission)

Editor to attempt jump

(Kinikin Heights — February 25, 2015) A former high-wire great, turned copy editor at this very newspaper, will attempt to hurdle the Black Canyon of the Gunnison in a 1984 Honda 250 grocery cart it was disclosed by the special events department this morning.
Fellow scribes at the San Juan Horseshoe say Melvin O’Toole, of the Maher O’Tooles was coerced into the stunt by radicals in the advertising department that insist the performance will prop up dwindling sales before the holidays.
O’Toole appeared rattled at the follow-up press conference held on the porch at the Coffee Trader in nearby Montrose. He did not answer questions and had what close friends called “a far-away look in his blood-shot eyes”.
Readers may recall O’Toole’s attempted leap in a cardboard crate back in 2002, which resulted in thee months of hospitalization, and another six in physical therapy.
When asked why he would engage in such self-destructive conduct Toole muttered something about job security before ambling off into the cedars.