This, But That

When I’m severely anxiety-ridden, I remind myself of the two most important things a human being needs to hear:  I am safe, and I am cute.

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I’d rather have a bottlenose dolphin in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.

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Never trust a terrorist with his bombs strapped on diagonally.  Something off about that.

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Am I a Cyber Lounge Lizard?  No, but I’m kind of a digital Komodo Dragon.

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Arab children’s book:  “Are You My Schwarma?”

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So it’s illegal to text while driving, but how about writing with pencil and paper?

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I would rather find ear buds than acquire an ear worm.

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Instead of pepper spray, how about cinnamon?  It would freshen up the attack site.

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I’m a Jewish Buddhist.  I deny myself, except around chopped liver.

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I have a friend who’s rough around the edges but hey, we can’t all be so fucking refined.

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If you give someone a hand job at jazz camp, do you get jazz hands?

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I want to write a book titled “How to Raise a Child With a High”.  That’s it, that is all.

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I told my son I’d listen to rap with him if he’d discuss the issues with me afterwards.

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I wish I were a water cooler, because it’s nice when people gather around me.  Also, I like to stay hydrated.

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Some old rock bands are not only washed up, they’re now clean.

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I got burned, but then I opened the floodgates.

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Mintiness is next to cleanliness.

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Dub step sounds like someone gave a rock and roll machine to toddlers.

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Virginia may be for lovers, but Ohio is apparently for weirdos.

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You’ve heard of the Madonna/Whore syndrome.  Now we have Dufus/Warriors!  Men who are nerds in the office, but in the bedroom, they whip out their Samurai swords.

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When Quasimodo wasn’t quite feeling himself, was he quasi-Quasimodo?

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If you’re going to be someone’s doormat, at least get laid properly.

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There are many people in THIS country who’d like an iron dome.  Over their litter box.

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Un Poquito Toco: nice name for a small hash store

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I eat like a Frenchwoman but I swear like a truck driver.

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I gave up being a perfectionist because I’m happy with the way I are.

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Deceptions & Disguises: A Night of Comedy – Saturday, October 25, 2014 in Rocky Hill, CT

Who?

 LINDA BELT(headliner), ROB SANTOS (featured comic), guest comics JESS MILLER and DARIK SANTOS and yours truly, JOANNA RAPOZA hosting.  CLICK TO PURCHASE TICKETS RIGHT HERE !!

What?

DISGUISES & DECEPTIONS: A NIGHT OF COMEDY

Come as yourself or in a favorite costume / alter-ego.

Where?

DAKOTA Steakhouse Rocky Hill, CT (1489 Silas Deane Highway)

dakota steakhouseWhen?

Saturday, OCTOBER 25, 2014, 7-10pm

How (much)?

$47 – for entertainment plus food (incl. tax/gratuity)

unlimited salad bar, entree, dessert, coffee/tea, bread

CASH BAR

**Here’s another chance to CLICK & BUY TICKETS (a modest processing fee of $2.64 added at checkout) **

Why?

Because we all need to laugh together.  And you want to wear that Halloween costume one extra time this year.

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Let Me Fartertain You

Flatulism sounds like it could be a decent religion, or at least a working philosophy. (“When in doubt, fart it out“?)

In reality, it’s a form of entertainment that has been around since ancient times. Professional farters, or flatulists, were at the “lower end” of the performers’ spectrum available to the wealthy during medieval times. But a bard or comedian who was also able to fart on command was actually sitting on a major party asset.

Back in the court of England’s King Henry II, “Roland the Farter” was a big hit. He held land in return for jester services, which included an annual royal Christmas performance of “Unum saltum et siffletum et unum bumbulum” (one jump, one whistle, and one fart.)

French flatulist “Le Pétomane” (whose real last name was Pujol; you just can’t make this stuff up) was active in the late 1800s and early 1900s.  I watched an old film of him online, farting into a huge funnel, but it was silent.  I also found this picture, where I believe the Gallic gas-maker is urging someone to pull his finger.

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A few years ago, someone named “Mr. Methane” blew it on Britain’s Got Talent. Not only did he bomb, none of the performers wanted to use the microphone after him. Backstage, they gave him a wide berth. The judges were not impressed with him because they went home and did the same thing every night. On the plus side, it was a great way to bring some classical music to television’s wider audience.

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Snarky Syntax

If you’re immune to depression, you may be a carrier.
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I bought three medium-sized tops on sale and all were way too small – I vanity-sized myself.
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Salted butter: because I want a dash of hypertension with my cholesterol.
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The best writers create things that lend themselves well to “class discussion”.
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I knew I was an unattractive baby and had to start working my assets early. All that initial falling down I did, that was slapstick.
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Vladimir Putin has such a way with bombs.
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Comedy open mics can be so discouraging; some are like cattle-calls, it’s all “look at moo! look at moo!”
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Instead of “free range” chicken, why not “free will” chicken? At least they’d have a choice.
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Tuesday is the Monday of summers. That pushes Hump Day to Thursday.
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Instead of pepper spray, how about something different? Cinnamon is nice and would freshen up the attack site.
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As we drove past a field of tall grass, my kid said, “Look, there’s a bunch of hay that’s still in the ground.”
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Me to my kid as we’re sitting in a nice restaurant: “Be quiet, I’m trying to smell those peoples’ food.”
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Find Your Joy Schtick

Before they found their schtick, Don Rickles was polite, Lenny Bruce didn’t curse, and Gallagher used a melon-baller.

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Succotash sounds like a Native American word for “heap of puke we got white man to eat”.

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Rock me like a Hurricane?  No thanks, but we could use some rain.

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If you go through an emotional war, and after the dust settles, you can still feel love, you have won. Also, you need to dust.

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A new study proves that smelling one’s own farts throughout the day will prevent cancer.  Which is ideal, since no doctor will ever come near you again with that stankly butt.

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Gray Tiger Cats

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Underneath the Dream

As I sat in my living room, newly populated with my mom’s baby grand piano and leather furniture, I felt more grown-up. That did not last long.

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I suddenly found myself lying on the floor, underneath the piano, as I frequently did in childhood. Gazing up, I’m not sure what I expected to see, but I’m glad it wasn’t any of these things:

1. Chewing gum
2. Duct tape
3. Graffiti (what would it say? “Luciano Pavarotti can hit high C but has low T”)
4. Birds nesting
5. “Your Ad Here”

You might say, I kind of saw stars.

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