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“Kaybe and the Six Million Dollar Project©”

The phone rang at our home one evening recently. On the line was my friend Four-Finger Fanny, an alien from outer space. Fanny works as a waitress at The Enchantment. I listened then said “I’ll be right there.”
I asked a young waitress to tell Fanny I was there, and then went to my booth in the back.
The Enchantment is a dingy roadhouse on the outskirts of Letongaloosa. Every college town needs a joint like the Enchantment to maintain its academic accreditation. I go there quite often to relax with a soft drink.
That night, however, I was there on urgent business. Another being from outer space, my friend KB2.11, (I call him Kaybe for short) had contacted me. He needed $6-million for a charity project that leaders at our end of the Milky Way galaxy were sponsoring.
“What’s up?” asked Fanny.
“Can you get in touch with Kaybe? I’m helping him raise money for a galaxy charity project and I need to know how and where to send the funds.”
As you may remember, my friend Kaybe looks like a giant tuna fish can. Erector Set arms sprout from the curved sides of his body. Three spindly legs drop from the flat underside of his stainless steel torso. He has ball bearing wheels for feet, and three sensor-eyes wave at you from the ends of floppy antennae on the top his lid.
Kaybe is from the Milky Way, but his home planet is several parsecs closer than the Earth to the center of the galaxy. And his people have solved the problem of traveling faster than the speed of light.
Kaybe speaks telepathically. His words form letters in your mind. Four-Finger Fanny is also from outer space, but she just looks like a
middle aged woman who has spent too much time on her feet.
Kaybe and Four-Finger Fanny communicate telepathically, but Four Finger
Kaybe’s $6-million project.

Fanny also speaks human. That’s good, because I’d rather not converse telepathically.
Some wealthy friends—people who have appeared in previous columns, Blair Timert, Eloise Simplekins, and Sir Jeremiah Teancrumpets,–had agreed to donate two million dollars each to the galaxy charity project.
Blair Timert, was adopted by wealthy Basque parents who lived in Letongaloosa. Their Basque name was unpronounceable for most people so they retained Blair’s birth name. Blair learned to speak Basque. In one adventure, Blair bested some Basque hoodlums who tried to kidnap him.
Eloise Simplekins was a cleaning lady for wealthy women of the wealthy La Mancha neighborhood. She realized that wealthy women in town hired pre-cleaning ladies to clean-up their husbands’ messy bathrooms before the regular cleaning ladies arrived. Eloise figured that other upper class women in the U.S. also hired pre-cleaning ladies. She founded a pre-cleaning business and sold franchises nationwide. She made a fortune.
Sir Jeremiah Teancrumpets was a British billionaire. He used to become angry at even the slightest irritation. His neighbor, a physician, taught Sir Jeremiah to laugh when he became angry, instead of becoming apoplectic. The laugh-it-off formula probably saved Sir Jeremiah from death by heart attack. But hearing Sir Jeremiah’s laugh causes some people fear and consternation.
Sir Jeremiah is a tightwad, but he hates paying income taxes. So he takes inflated income tax write-offs for donations he makes to charitable causes.
“How do we transfer these funds to Kaybe?” I asked Fanny.
“Well,” she said, “you just…” Then with a look of consternation, she added, “Wait. I’ll have to get back to you on that.”
A week later the phone rang.
“I’ve got an answer, but you’ll have to come to the Enchantment.”
“I’m on my way,” I said.
When I got to my booth, Four-Finger Fanny handed me a soft drink and said, “What I’m going to tell you is top secret. You have to guard this information with your life.”
She then gave me the name of a bank, a routing number, and the name and the number of the account. The electronic transfer went through flawlessly.
Sometime later I got a message saying that the donation had been received and that everyone involved was most grateful.
-30-

Dr. Larry Day is a retired J-School professor turned humor writer. His book, Day Dreaming: Tales From the Fourth Dementia is available for purchase via his website: http://www.daydreaming.co 

 

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April the Fool and the Psychic©

Back in April, 2015 I wrote a humor column titled “April the Fool.”
The column dealt with April Van Planton and his onery mother Lavida. Lavida and her husband had had six children and didn’t want any more. She went to the doctor for a pain in her stomach. When she was told she was pregnant, Lavida called the physician a “stupid old sawbones,” and smacked him in the head with her purse.
After the doctor’s diagnosis, Lavida made an appointment for a second opinion. This time she called the studio of Swami Samantha, a young psychic who just opened a practice in Letongaloosa.
“You’re not pregnant,” said the psychic.
“Then why do I have this pain?”
` “Do you drink orange juice?”
“Sure, every day for breakfast .”
“Switch to cranberry juice, and the pain will go away.”
Lavida switched to cranberry juice, and she did feel a lot better.
But nine months later she delivered a nine-pound baby boy.
The birth made Lavida so angry that she named the baby April. She chose that sissy name because she wanted April to be teased. She hoped he’d develop a mean streak, when he grew up. She wanted him to get into fistfights with his tormentors.
But April didn’t grow up to have a mean streak He grew up to be bright, kind and friendly. Everybody in town doted on him.
That drove Lavida nuts.
“You’re a fool, April,” she’d say.
“Yes, ma’am,” he’d say.
That drove Lavida even more nuts.
“You’re a stupid, no good, worthless bum,” she’d yell.
“I’m sorry, Momma,” he’d say. “I’ll try to be better.”
April studied hard. He got top grades even though Lavida insisted that he work long hours after school and on weekends.
When that failed to break April’s spirit, his mother gave up trying to ruin his life. Lavida died not long after that, a bitter and disillusioned woman.
In high school April aced the ACT and SAT exams. Top universities offered him four-year full-ride scholarships. April attended Harvard and graduated with a degree in business. He became CEO of a large company by the age of 30. After a successful career April retired and became an acclaimed motivational speaker.
One day Ted Palmer, president of the Letongaloosa Chamber of Commerce, saw April’s picture on the cover of a top flight business magazine. Ted had been one grade behind April in high school. On a whim Ted called the firm that booked April’s appearances and asked how much it would cost to have April speak at the chamber’s annual banquet.
“Mr. Van Planton’s fee for one speech is $50,000, unless you are a charitable organization,” said the person on the phone, “in which case it’s free. But he’s booked for charitable speeches through October, 2020”
Ted Palmer thanked her and hung up. The phone rang a few minutes later. It was April himself.
“Ted, I’d love to speak at your banquet for free,” he said.
Interest was so high that the Chamber of Commerce invited the public to attend April’s speech, and booked the largest auditorium in Letongaloosa for the event. April told Ted he wanted to approach to the microphone without introduction.
“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen,” he said, “I’m April, the Fool.”
He got a standing ovation before he could even begin his speech—and, of course, another standing ovation after he’d finished.
April stayed in town after the speech. He wanted to meet the psychic who had had such an impact on his life. April had his executive assistant call in the appointment. The assistant requested a “back door, back room” psychic reading for an out-of-town visitor named Thomas Forman. The psychic’s reputation was wide spread, and she frequently did readings for out of town clients.
Wearing a hat and a raincoat with the collar turned up, April rapped on the back door of the psychic’s studio.
“Good afternoon, Mr. Forman, I’m Swami Samantha,” said the psychic.
“And I’m April the Fool.”
There was a long silence.
Then April said, “If you are free, I’d like to take you to dinner to thank you for all you did for me.”
-30-

Dr. Larry day is a retired J-School professor turned humor writer. His book, Day Dreaming: Tales From the Fourth Dementia is available for purchase via his website: http://www.daydreaming.co

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Sports Bon Mots, Part 2

The Jargon:                              The Response
“He’s down for the count,” “Too bad he can only count to six.”
“This one’s going down to the wire,” “Hurry, call Western Union.”
”The coach called for a full court press,” “It’ll be back from the cleaners Monday.”
“That was a low blow.” “Even for a base saxophone”
“Smithers is on deck,” “they’re playing poker in the dugout again.”
“They need to bench that guy,” “Or maybe give him a sofa”
“He tried a head fake (basketball term)…Or was it just brain freeze?”

Dr. Larry day is a retired J-School professor turned humor writer. His book, Day Dreaming: Tales From the Fourth Dementia is available for purchase via his website: http://www.daydreaming.co

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Game Day Bon Mots

They can’t buy a basket.   And their baskets will make them $20 million a year.

They can’t find their range. But they finally found the kitchen sink.

They are throwing up bricks. Fifty building contractors want to hire them.

He threw up an air ball. Then the coach threw up.

They have to find an answer for Reggie Miller. They can’t even find an answer for Glen Miller.

It’s been a game of runs. Somebody. Please get them some Pepto-Bismol.

Dr. Larry day is a retired J-School professor turned humor writer. His book, Day Dreaming: Tales From the Fourth Dementia is available for purchase via his website: http://www.daydreaming.co

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Eloise and the “Kindness” Phenomenon©

Longtime readers of this column will remember Eloise Simplekins in “Eloise Calls the Robo Callers,” and in “Packin Light Heat”. For those who haven’t met Eloise, following is an introduction to her from previous columns:

“Eloise Simpelkins grew up in Letongaloosa and worked as a cleaning lady. Later Eloise made a pile of money. She founded a company that serviced a fastidious segment of the nation’s wealthy homemakers. Eloises’s company sent pre-cleaning ladies to certain homes. The homemakers didn’t want the regular cleaning ladies to see all the mess and paid Eloise handsomely for her discrete pre-cleaning services.”
Eloise has learned from recent scientific studies that being kind to others has highly beneficial effects on the do-gooder’s own health and wellbeing. Naturally she wants to spread the good news nationwide. So Eloise contacts her friend Hadley “Cyberman” Wilkins. Hadley the brilliant electronic engineer who helped develop cell phone technology.
“Hadley,” said Eloise. “How goes it?”
“Busily, my philanthropic friend, how goes it with you?”
“I’m well. Listen. I want to disseminate some good information to a nationwide audience.”
“That’s a laudable goal. What’s the message?”
“I saw a survey that says people who are kind to others become healthier and live longer themselves.”
“Good information. That would people an incentive to be nice to each other.”
“I need a way to disseminate the information nationwide quickly and anonymously.
“How much information?”
“It’s just six short phrases. Thirty-five words or so.”
“That much info would fit on one screen of everybody’s cell phone.”
“How many cell phones is that?”
“Millions, just in the U.S.”
“Can you hack millions of cell phones simultaneously and not get caught?”
` “With the right algorithm .”
“Who has one?”
“I’d need to create one.”
“Can you?”
“For such a good cause I’ll sure try. Give me the list.”
Eloise sent Hadley the list of benefits for being kind to people.
A. Kindness is heart-healthy.
B. Kindness relieves stress
C. Being kind cuts down on illness
D. Being kind helps make your hormones healthy
E. Being kind can lengthen your life.
Weeks went by while Hadley wrestled with one of the hardest problems he’d ever worked on.
Finally Eloise received a one-word message: “Eureka!”
Then a day or two later came another message: “When do you want to do it?”
“How about Valentine’s Day?”
“Excellent idea.”
Around 9 a.m. on Valentine’s Day Hadley got a two-word order: “Do it.”
He pressed a button on a huge electronic console. Simultaneously millions of U.S. users got a “ding” on their cell phones. When they checked their screens, the kindness list beamed up at them.
That touch of a button caused a worldwide sensation. Communication networks crashed temporarily from the volume of messages, then righted themselves and got busy transmitting the reactions.
Investigations began everywhere. The official agencies of the U.S. government, and similar agencies worldwide, searched in vain for the source of what became known in a myriad of language as the “kindness” transmission.
Legislators opined, news organizations reported, editorial writers and columnists pontificated. “Kindness” discussions flourished in bar rooms from Helsinki to Perth.
Bridge club members quit bidding, and poker chips stopped hitting velvet tables while people talked about the Kindness list. Domino games in the Caribbean and Cricket matches in the Indian subcontinent were interrupted.
In the U.S. as Valentine’s Day approached, employment at greeting card factories doubled and tripled. The card makers ran three shifts a day. The U.S. Postal Service and private mail and package delivery companies took on hundreds of extra workers. The kindness phenomenon helped economy.
Predictably, opinions about the Kindness List varied wildly, but for a little while, the world became a kinder, gentler place.
Eloise and Hadley were shocked and amazed by the furor they had caused. At first they were frightened. But then they realized that the electronic firewall they had created was working. They remaining safe and anonymous.
They got together to chat on a super secure telephone connection.
“Wow!” said Eloise, “That was really something.”
“Whew!” said Hadley, “You bet it was.”
“So, said Eloise, what shall we do next year?”
-30-Dr. Larry day is a retired J-School professor turned humor writer. His book, Day Dreaming: Tales From the Fourth Dementia is available for purchase via his website: http://www.daydreaming.co

 

 

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When Nothing Seems Funny

“When you are creeping through the literary underbrush hoping to bag a piece of humor with your net, nothing seems funny. The thing works the other way around. Humor is funny when it sneaks up on you and takes you by surprise.”
Russell Baker, quoted in “Introduction,” Fierce Pajamas, An Anthology of Humor Writing from The New Yorker, David Remnick and Henry Finder, eds., New York, Random House, 2001, page ii.

Dr. Larry day is a retired J-School professor turned humor writer. His book, Day Dreaming: Tales From the Fourth Dementia is available for purchase via his website: http://www.daydreaming.co

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