Make Good Use of Your Sidebar

I may eventually put something worthwhile here. Then again, perhaps I won't.


Judicial tradition

A tradition in the U.S. Supreme Court involves placing quill pens at each of the counsel tables every day the court is in session. Many attorneys, especially those arguing for the first time before the court, take one of the pens as a souvenir.

Of course, the use of quill pens is not confined to genteel reminders of days past. Those things are sharp! During particularly heated arguments, opposing lawyers have been known to stab one another. “Just making a point,” one lawyer quipped as he plunged the nib of his pen into his opponent’s eye.



The final adventure

The starship shuddered from another blast from the plasma monster. “Captain! Shields are down to 20%! If we don’t find a way to reverse course, we’re finished!” The captain drummed his fingers on his command chair, considering the options open to him. Direct remaining power to the engines? Tried and failed. Ditto blasting out. The bridge crew looked expectantly at their leader, but the captain’s expression was grim.

“Gentlemen, we’re out of options. It’s been my honor to work with every one of you. Comms, send a final message to HQ, warning other vessels to avoid this system.”

As the close-up shot of the captain faded and an ad for Ivory soap took its place, Allison gripped my hand.  She asked “How will they defeat the monster? This is the end for all of them, isn’t it?”

“Not a chance. This season’s ratings have been through the roof. I expect to see previews of next season any day now.”



Pole position

The big-boned woman at the other end of the bar winked at him. She wasn’t his type, but he was a “two at ten and a ten at two” sort of guy and the bartender had already shouted for last call. He made his way to her and decided on the direct approach. “Wanna see Mister Stabby? Let’s go somewhere private and he can come out and play.” She agreed and they drove to a cheap motel.

As he started to undress, she stopped him with a hand on his arm. “You don’t want to see what I have under there?” he asked, leering drunkenly.

“I sure do,” she said, discarding her skirt, and the bulge was obvious, “but me first. Meet *my* Mister Stabby.” He yelped and ran unsteadily to his car.



Two anniversaries

They say that one of the cardinal mistakes a husband can make is to buy a home appliance for his wife for a birthday or anniversary. Good advice, really, right behind not answering the question “Do these pants make my butt look big?”

On the other hand, what can a guy do some times? The washing machine that came with the house broke down in late June one year. We bought a new one on what turned out to be our wedding anniversary. When *that* machine failed, years later, once again it happened the day before our anniversary. “Ha ha,” I said, “Now we have *two* anniversaries to celebrate.” Ignoring the glare from my wife, I called the appliance store to order the machine’s replacement. “This one is a deluxe model. Never say I don’t get you nice presents.”

Fortunately, the house has a spare bedroom, as I’m too long for the couch.



My time and your time

The singer was ready. The players ran onto the field to cheers for the home team and boos for the visitors. Both sides lined up for the anthem. As the singer started her off-key rendition of the song, a half-dozen home team players turned their backs and made the Black Power salute. The fans booed lustily.

The general manager emerged, whispering two words to each protesting player: “You’re fired.” Security led the players off the field.

One didn’t go quietly. He engaged in colorful gyrations, shouting, “I got my First Amendment rights!” The GM said, “The team acknowledges your right to protest on your time. And we have the right not to hire people who disrespect the anthem, the flag, and the fans on my time. Now clean out your locker.”