Laughter: Use It to Pick Up Women

Humour, some say, is the fruit of life, and this is especially true when it comes to picking up on a girl no matter where the location. Make them laugh, and I guarantee, that you are very close to getting their phone number and even to getting them to go out with you.

But, as we all know, making them laugh, is easier said than done. Precisely for those who find it difficult to come up with something funny to say, I am adding some funny anecdotes and wise cracks that you can memorize and then use in those situations where you need to get the girl in front of you to laugh.

1) The Prescription:
Did you hear of the lady, who walked into the pharmacist and asked for arsenic?
The man behind the counter asked in wonder, "What do you need that for?
The lady calmly replied," to kill my husband."
The pharmacist was taken aback," Are you crazy? Do you want to get us both into jail? And, anyway, why do you want to kill him? Go to a counselor. Get help for your marriage."
The lady paused and from her purse she removed a set of pictures of her husband and the wife of the pharmacist in some very creative postures.
The pharmacist looked at the snaps, put them down and smiled," lady, why did you not tell me that you have a prescription?"

2) The Tip Book
A wife calls out to her husband, "Have you seen the book, 101 Tips to Live for More Than a Hundred Years?
The husband sheepishly replies, "I burnt it."
"What?" the wife shouted out," why?"
The husband whispered back," Because your mother wanted to read it."

3) Range of Food
Looking at his wife fry meat balls in all kinds of shapes and sizes, Tom tapped her on the shoulder, "Why?"
His wife turned," Because you asked for a variety of food."

4) Mushrooms
Tom was picking mushrooms from the forest floor with his wife, when she picked up one and showed it to Tom," Is this for eating?"
Tom smiled," Yes. As long as you do not cook it."

5) Driving Around
Tom greeted his wife when she returned home," So, my dear, how was your first time driving all alone?"
His wife smiled coyly, "Do you want to hear it from me or read about it in the papers?

6) Drama
A couple are watching a film in their local theater when the wife snuggles close to her husband and points to the screen," Do you think that they will get married in the end?"
The husband sighs," Yes. These movies always have bad endings."

7) The Library
Tom visited the local library, walks up to the librarian and asks, "Do you know where I can find the book, the Supremacy of Men over Women?"
The librarian conducts a short search on the computer and looks up," you will be able to find it in the science fiction."

Conclusion:
While some of these might sound offensive, if you use them well you will be able to display not just a sense of humour, but also that you are exactly the opposite of the stereotype. How? Immediately, after you done, lean over and whisper, But I am not like that, and if you allow me to take you out, you will see that for yourself.

Clutterbugs

"This house is so cluttered I can't find anything," said my husband.

I looked around, and realized that most of the clutter was his, on that particular day, anyway. He seemed to be oblivious to that fact. He's not only a closet packrat, he builds guitars. He rebuilds guitars- guitars that don't quite meet his specifications when he buys them. Our living room is a guitar parts morgue. We could open up a store... They ought to make tables that have a slight angle to them, because every flat surface in our house gets piled with guitar parts, newspapers, mail, art supplies, telephones (yes we have several that don't even work, but "might be salvageable"), and all the equipment that goes along with the guitar building and playing. His "workroom" has a tendency to overflow into the living areas. He said, just the other day, that he wanted to use the other bedroom to "store" stuff, too. I had to make a decision, to blatantly show him that most of the clutter is his, or keep quiet and put all his things away in his used-to-be-a-bedroom "workroom". He surely would complain then, because it would be "put up." We can't ever find things that are "put up." We "put it up" so well, that it's never to be seen again. Might as well go buy another one, for all the good it's gonna' do us looking for it.

The trouble is, I think, we have too much stuff. If someone came by today and asked us to take up our cross and follow Christ (or Yeshua), we wouldn't be able to find it. The Spring cleaning bug has died, too. It comes around once a year around March. Things get spruced up and "put up" and then it slowly fades away, back to the way it was. Little baskets I put around to hide the parts, and pocket contents he dumps out when he comes home are filled to the brim with all kinds of things- gloves, dog leashes, papers, and one even has an amplifier balanced on top of it.

Dust is another problem. We live in the Southwest, where rain is as scarce as change from a vending machine. Lots of dust causes lots of static electricity, which in turn causes computer freeze-ups and malfunctions. With both of us being avowed computer geeks, that certainly is a problem. We are frequently unplugging everything and plugging it back in to release the charge. I even bought some anti-static spray the other day, but alas, it is lost, after just one use. We live in Colorado, but you'd think I was back in West Texas with all the dust that seems to creep in here. I work at home, so my husband thinks I have all day to just go around and dust, and find things. He has no idea... Well, occasionally I do the chores, but anything that needs dusting that's more than five feet high, isn't going to get dusted. If I can't see it, it isn't there. It doesn't bother me, as long as I can't see it.

Maybe I'll start building pianos. They have lots of parts. And they're really big. Nah. They have a flat surface on top. I'd never be able to get into them to work on them. Besides, I'd never get anything else done, just playing the piano all day...

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3. ComedySportz is modeled after the comedy show, Theatersports by Keith Johnson. The comedy version was born in 1984 by Dick Chudnow.

4. You can find this comedy show in cities throughout the United States including: Spokane, Chicago, Indianapolis, Richmond, Dallas, and New York. They also do shows in the United Kingdom and Ireland.

5. Because this comedy show is clean, funny, interactive and positive it is a great show for the entire family.

6. ComedySportz performs well over 2000 shows on the road ever year. They do shows for colleges, corporate events, churches and fundraising groups.

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ComedySportz offers comedy, fun, healthy competition and opportunities for self improvement.

Smoking Gun In Cancer Revealed; It's The Smoking Throat

OK, smoke fans, the facts are out once again. According to the new and pretty inarguable Cancer Atlas and the updated Tobacco Atlas, which were published by The American Cancer Society, if "Smoky, The Scare" gets his way, tobacco use is projected to kill a billion people in this century. (By the way, wouldn't it be more reassuring if the word “Prevention” was in the Society's name?)

Now, that’s what we call recreational population control. The figure amounts to ten times as many folks as smoking sent choking to the grave in the 20th century.

And ready for this? Tobacco use causes one in five cancer deaths, or a total of 1.4 million graveyard bound souls a year.

Now, here’s the good and much underappreciated news: Dr. Judity Mackay, a senior policy adviser of the World Health Organization, tells us, "We know with cancer, if we take action now, we can save 2 million lives a year by 2020 and 6.5 million by 2040."

So here’s our bit to stop cancer in its tracks. And we’re not going to pull any punches, because, if you still smoke, you obviously haven’t listened to anybody yet, and we care about you too much not to give you our best shot.

Here goes all the ways we know to annoy our friends who smoke with advice that is invariably resented but not always dismissed. In fact, we actually have two friends who stopped smoking after we had at them.

So let's light up with logic:

1. If you can’t quit smoking, pursue your fetish when you're not around us.

2. We don’t date people who smoke, because we don’t want to die in their arms. It’s not death we’re afraid of; it’s their breath and the way their clothes smell. We find both spiritually wilting, not to mention sexually.

3. Everybody loves you, but somebody you know is following you, everywhere you go, and this person wants to kill you, and do you know who this person is? The person in you who wants to smoke. The person in you who doesn’t want you to smoke, while weaker right now, can be made strong enough to toss the sneak thief of your life out for good.

4. Do you know what people think every time you light up? Wow, what a dummy. Provoking this response is particularly incriminating if you think you’re a genius.

5. Don’t tell me you’re so desperate for pleasure that just for the little buzz you can get from dragging all those carcinogens into your fragile body you’re ready to die? How much do you like Lorillard and the other ciggy makers? So much you need to die for them?

6. Do you know that smoking is like rat poison? You ingest a little every day. You think you’re fine. But actually your entire body is being poisoned. That’s why you look yellow and your skin wrinkles prematurely. Actually, if you could do an autopsy on yourself while you’re still alive, you’d find that all the organs in your body are shriveled up from the poisons. For instance, pathologists tell us that your organs, instead of being smooth and healthy, look more like prunes. But you keep dragging the junk in, because you think you’re fine. Well, you’re not. You’re deadly ill. And then one day it happens. You go from being ill to being landfill.

7. Last, do you know that all the blood in your body races through your lungs every minute? That’s right. It all keeps racing there to give off carbon dioxide and grab fresh oxygen. Then it races to the far corners of your body with the breath of life. Unfortunately, it also drags the carcinogens along for the ride. That’s why, for instance, women who smoke often get breast cancer; breasts are very vascular and so they’re a frequent drop-off point for the poison.

Worst of all, if you die, you can’t read NewsLaugh anymore. Talk about sad. So stop it already.

Infant Author Accused Of Plaigarism; Copied Sounds In Nursery

A newborn infant, who showed unusual promise in the hospital nursery in the modulation of her of coos and cries and was immediately swept from her mother’s arms to Harvard University, has now been disgraced as a mere plagiarist.

It seems that the infant, commissioned to write an original succession of coos and cries by a wily book packager, had listened, intentionally or not, to the coos and cries of her fellow newborns during her brief stay at the hospital.

Hapless child that she was, she could hardly do more than imitate their enchanting litany.

Now all has been uncovered and the infant is widely disgrace and currently inflicting unnecessary mortification on herself.

Along with the author’s disgrace with fortune and adult’s eyes, the once storied publishing company of Little Baby & Company, which optioned, not only one but two books of coos and cries from the infant, now has pabulum on its face.

To recuperate as much as possible from the catastrophic descent of its reputation, it has cancelled its contract with the babe, not only for a revised version of its present rendition of infant sounds, but for the second collection, for which, in its eagerness to make money even at the cost of its intellectual dignity, paid the newborn the sum of $700,000 for the expected twin bestsellers.

As usual, the rains of time will wash away the pabulum and the child, we hope, having one day realized the immensity of her transgression, will have the wisdom to attribute it to her preconscious state of relative unconsciousness and will go on to achieve whatever she may in the yet unknown possibilities of her post coos-and-cries intellectual development.

Humanist Terrorists Nabbed In Miami; Planned To Plant Explosive Books

A group that calls itself humanist terrorists was apprehended by the FBI in a preemptive strike in Miami. The terrorist cell, which claims affiliation with the Middle Atlantic terror group all-Libraries, was infiltrated by an FBI operative.

The leader of the group confided to the informant that the members planned to plant explosive books in various locations throughout the United States, including the Sears Tower, a number of FBI buildings, and radical Muslim mosques.

The humanist terrorist group had been operating out of the basement of an as yet undisclosed free public library in Miami. The FBI found plentiful evidence of the group’s plans, including many intelligent books generally considered to be easily accessible and therefore highly dangerous.

At a news conference held to announce the arrests, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales stated, “Fortunately, the plot by this home-grown terrorist cell was disrupted in the planning stages. The group was still trying to get funding to acquire a sufficient number of books.”

In a deposition, a spokesman for the humanist terrorists confessed, “We were planning to spread enlightenment wherever we could, so we selected two of the most informative and readable philosophy books of recent times, both by the leading but now deceased humanist terrorist Bertrand Russell. First, we were going to stage an attack with his landmark The History of Western Philosophy, just to provide people with an overview of our radical ideology. Then we hoped to follow that up with a strike using The Selected Writings Of Bertrand Russell. Our goal was, I confess, to disrupt the new Dark Age that appears to be descending on a worldwide basis.”

The prosecuting attorney outlined the government’s case, saying, “The confession of this self-styled humanist terrorist clearly indicates there was a clear intention to disrupt the deadly ignorance that pervades much of today’s society. Obviously, the group poses a threat to the widespread determination of much of the world’s population to return to a time so wonderfully ill-informed that it can truly be described as The Dark Ages come back.”

The families of the terrorists were startled by the arrests and continued to maintain that the suspects are innocent.

As one mother said, “My son is not a terrorist. He’s a good boy who somehow came to believe in radical ideas like truth and wisdom. If he’s freed on bail, I promise to limit his reading time.”

Gossip: What People Say About It

We decided, at a reader’s request, to write about gossip and, along the way, to note what others have gossiped about it. We decided, at a reader’s request, to write about gossip and, along the way, to note what others have gossiped about it.

What might one say under the influence of a confessional potion when asked, “Why do you always talk about other people?”

We imagined the reply, “Apparently, because I have nothing much to say about myself.”

Before we turn to the little basket of quotes we picked for you, we can also pass along a couple of our own consolations. One, it’s a lot better to be interesting enough to be talked about than to be the interested party who’s doing the talking. Two, gossip’s empty gambits take place in a playground, actually, on a seesaw. The child who delights to babble sees you way up there – the higher the better – and thinks that by putting you down he or she will put himself or herself up. Tada!

Now, we turn to what others have gossiped about it. It appears, not surprisingly, that brilliance has enlivened the subject only rarely.

“The trouble with her is that she lacks the power of conversation but not the power of speech.” George Bernard Shaw

“I know that’s a secret, for it’s whispered everywhere.” William Congreve

“They come together like the Coroner’s Inquest, to sit upon the murdered reputations of the week.” Congreve

“I hate to spread rumors, but what else can you do with them?” Amanda Lear

“If you haven’t got anything good to say about anyone come and sit by me.” Alice Roosevelt Longworth

“She proceeds to dip her little fountain-pen filler into pots of oily venom and to squirt this mixture at all her friends.” Harold Nicolson

“I’m called away by particular business – but I leave my character behind me.” Richard Brinsley Sheridan

“Here is the whole set! A character dead at every word.” Same Sheridan

“There is only one thing in the world that is worse than being talked about, and that is not being talked about.” Oscar Wilde

“A professional athlete – of the tongue.” Aldous Huxley

Social sewage.” George Meredith

“Foul whisperings.” William Shakespeare (Sometimes referrred to in gossip as Billy Wigglestick)

A Revised History Of Pasta

While Marco Polo, a Venetian, is generally given credit for discovering noodles in China, recent research suggests that Italian pasta in all its glorious varieties was actually discovered in Rome nearly a century earlier, and quite by accident, by a remarkably unlikely epicurean named Julius Amplonius, with the able assistance of an invading barbarian named Klunk, The Great.

The momentous event occurred one afternoon when this portly patrician was dining at a chic restaurant just off the Roman Forum. He was savoring a sip of red wine from Tuscany when a group of alarmed citizens came running by, screeching, “The barbarians are coming! The barbarians are coming!”

Amplonius had witnessed their arrival before, and by now he had made peace with the ancient wisdom, “Eat, drink, and be merry, for tomorrow you may be out of food and wine.” It was by such Stoicism that the wise were able to witness the destruction of the Roman Empire while preserving a somewhat peaceful life. So, with a knowing smile, Julius simply raised his glass toward the fleeing crowd.

“What are you going to do, Julie, just sit there and eat?” a citizen who knew him quite well asked.

“Why not?” he replied. “I’m thirsty. Not to mention hungry.” With that, he indulged in another taste of the Tuscan red.

“You’re crazy!” a speeding friend called. “Run, Julie! Run!”

Just then a waitress who doubled as a temptress arrived with Julie’s lunch, which might be described as a plate of proto-pasta. It consisted of a flat, round piece of dough that hung just a bit over the margins of the plate. It had a baked tomato sitting in the middle of it, with a single chunk of parmesan cheese next to it, and around both was a wreath of fragrant basil leaves.

“Enjoy your plano,” she said, putting down the dish, for that is the name the proto-pasta was known by.

“Thank you, gorgeous,” Julius told her, and gave her a pinch.

“Oh, you silly man,” she replied, and, looking about, seemed nervous. “Can you do me a favor, love, and close out your bill now?”

“No problem, you sex kitten,” he said, and reached for his purse. He took out enough Roman coinage to include a generous tip. “Keep the change,” he told her, and pursed his lips expectantly.

“Thank you, sweetie,” she said, and gave him a luscious but ever-so-brief kiss. Then she hurried off after the other fleeing citizens.

Julius calmly picked up a knife and fork and began to eat his proto-pasta.

Just as he cut off and savored his first bite, in rushed a huge, fur-covered barbarian, with a leather shield and the fateful sword with which he would help Julius discover pasta in many of the varieties we enjoy to this day, from lasagna to angel hair.

“Uh!” he grunted, and raised his sword.

Julius continued to dine. “Uh! Uh!” the barbarian raged, for the sound “uh” comprised much of the everyday range of his proto-language. To attract the attention of the unperturbed diner, he swung his sword in a circle and just happened to whack off the head of a statue of the great Augustus. It crashed to the marble floor.

Julius couldn’t help but notice the decapitation and, placing a leaf of basil on his tongue, said, “That wasn’t very nice. I kind of liked that statue.”

The barbarian could not, of course, understand a word. In an effort to establish a bit of good will, at least long enough to allow him to finish his meal, Julius held up his bottle of wine. “Like some vino?”

“Huh-Uh!” the barbarian managed to say.

“Suit yourself,” Julie told him. “Got a name?”

The barbarian stared at him without comprehension.

“Name?” Julius repeated, pointing to himself and then at the barbarian to illustrate the point of his question.

“Klunk,” the barbarian said.

“I might have guessed,” Julius commented.

“Klunk, The Great,” the barbarian continued, with some intellectual effort.

“Good for you,” Julius told him, and put out his hand. “I’m Julius, The Roman, also known as Julie, The Ample. Have a seat.”

“Huh-uh! I am conqueror – conqueror of Rome!” Klunk managed to say.

“Good for you!” Julie told him, and couldn’t resist asking the most challenging question. “Are you sure you can afford the upkeep? It’s an expensive city to maintain.”

“What is upkeep?” Klunk wanted to know.

“You’ll find out,” Julius advised him. “Now, come on. Have a seat. You’ve had a hard day.” Then he pointed to his dish and indicated a reluctant willingness to share some of his food. “And enjoy some plano.”

Klunk looked down at the plate, and asked, “What is plano?”

“You don't know?” Julie inquired. “Where have you been?”

“Other side of the Alps,” Klunk managed to get out.

“Oh, no wonder,” Julie replied, and decided to educate the deprived soul. “See. This is a plate. Ever hear of a plate?”

“Plate?”

“Instead of eating off the table, or the ground, you eat off of a plate.”

“Uh,” Klunk said, with apparent understanding.

“Now, on the plate we put a flat piece of boiled dough, called plano,” Julius continued, lifting up the edge with his fork to demonstrate. “Then we put all kinds of goodies on top of it. In this case, a tomato, a piece of cheese, and basil leaves.”

“Uh-huh.” Klunk acknowledged.

“All you do is take a knife and fork,” Julius explained, picking the utensils up slowly, so Klunk wouldn’t mistake his intentions and send his head rolling the way of the great Augustus’s marble head. “Then you cut off a piece.” He went through the process and took a bite. “Ah, delicious! Sure you won’t have any?”

“Uh-huh,” Klunk said, holding his ground, and repeated with some effort, “Plano.”

“Excellent!” Julius exclaimed. “You'll be a true Roman in no time!”

“Klunk – a Roman?” the barbarian responded, visibly insulted, and raised his sword high above Julius. Then, unexpectedly, he brought the sword down on the plate and cut the plano right in half. “Now, what do you call it?” he was somehow able to ask.

Julius looked down at the two half-moons, and said, “I think I’ll call that one big agnolotti.” Then he took another sip of wine and smiled at Klunk.

Incensed at his inability to frighten Julius, he raised his sword again and whacked the plate three or four times. “What do you call it now?”

Julius examined it, and said, “This I’ll call lasagne.” With that, he took a bite and savored it.

Now furious, Klunk attacked the plate repeatedly, and demanded, “What do you call it now?”

Julius, despite his indifference to fate, was a bit shaken by all the clatter, and said, “I will name it linguine.”

Needless to say, Klunk swung his sword at the plate with an unprecedented volley of strokes. “What is it now?”

Julius examined the mishmash on his plate. By now, the plano was cut into thin strips, the tomato was diced, and the cheese was grated. After some deliberation, Julius announced, “You made what I will call spaghetti.” Still remaining remarkably calm, at least on the exterior, Julius took his fork and wound some spaghetti around it. Then he took a bite. “Delicious! And fun, too,” he told Klunk.

Enraged at his seemingly imperturbable true Roman, the barbarian now slashed at the contents of the plate until his arms were a veritable blur. Then, short of breath, he sighed, “Tell me what you name that.”

Julius looked closely at the mayhem in his plate. Now, the pasta was as thin as he could imagine it, and the tomato sauce, cheese, and basil were all mixed together. “It is so thin I think I will name it angel hair.”

Klunk became unexpectedly curious and bent toward Julius. “Angel hair? What for? You no angel. You fat Roman.”

Considering how finely the plano was now sliced, Julius could not imagine how much longer it could invite the attentions of Klunk and imagined that his own neck might well be the next object of the barbarian’s fury. Ever the clever Roman, he noticed that, as a result of Klunk’s exertion, his tummy was showing a bit.

Julie was, of course, also aware of the legendary weakness of the barbarian shield, as opposed to the metal shield that accounted for much of the impenetrability of the storied Roman phalanx.

So he pretended to move his knife toward the last remaining decent-size piece of tomato, saying, “No, my friend, I am not an angel.” With that, he quickly stabbed the somewhat exhausted Klunk, and added, “But you’re about to become one.”

Klunk looked down at his sudden, fatal wound with shock and fell to the ground with a thud. His head knocked the table and, if Julius’s hands weren’t so quick, the movement would have upset his glass of wine.

Leaning back and enjoying a sip, he said, “I think I’m gonna call all these things I discovered after my beautiful girlfriend, Pastina.” Then he rolled a bit on his fork and indulged in another mouthful, musing, “I just love Pastina.”

All the names Julius invented that day, with the undoubted help of the ill-fated barbarian Klunk, have come down through the centuries without alteration, except for the categorical appellation, which usage would eventually abbreviate to the more familiar word “pasta.”

New Cause of High Blood Pressure Revealed; Expecting Logical Behavior

A new study in The New England Journal Of Medicine reveals that one of the principal causes of high-blood pressure in the contemporary world is logical thinking.

A researcher commented on the surprise finding, saying, “Look it’s basically an illogical world out there. So the more you try to deal with it logically, the more upset you’re bound to become – and up shoots your blood pressure. We found that, when we convince patients to give up interfacing with the world with the expectations that logical thinking sets up, they immediately become far more relaxed and, as a result, their blood pressure drops, often returning to normal levels.”

When asked if there might be other undiscovered factors that contribute to high blood pressure, he said, “Oh, absolutely. For instance, we’ve got a study in the works right now on that insidious culprit, sensitivity.”

“Sensitivity?” we asked.

“Yes,” he went on, “You see the modern world, especially as we interface with it through the mass media and frequently in corporate life, appears wildly insensitive to our individual wishes, so the more sensitive you are, the more likely it is to upset you. So we’re looking into how we can condition people to feel less, at least, when dealing with larger entities.”

“What about sensitivity in our personal lives? Is that still OK?”

“Well, I’d like to think so. But, since many domestic spats lead to higher blood pressure, we’re also considering a study to determine the benefits of reducing sensitivity in personal life.”

“But what good is it,” we inquired, “to have normal blood pressure if you’re determined to be illogical and insensitive?”

“Well, that’s part of the problem. In some ways, the cure may be worse than the disease. Of course, the ultimate way to lower your blood pressure is to die, but we don’t see that as a viable area for a long-term study.”

Surgeon General Uncertain About What Hospital To Check His Grandmother Into

The Surgeon General, after reading the results of a recent report about the alarming number of fatalities in U. S. hospitals that are due to preventable human error, was uncertain about what hospital to check his grandmother into when he learned that she was suffering from shortness of breath.

He decided the time had come from decisive government action. As a result, all hospitals must now display at the registration desk the following warning: "The Surgeon General has determined that hospitals may be hazardous to your health and may result in accidental death."

The American Civil Liberties Union is protesting the necessity of posting the warning, maintaining it infringes on the right of hospitals to conduct their business with the normal expectation that a certain number of patients will live and a certain number will leave in a less vital condition.

A spokesman for the ACLU stated, "This is clearly an infringement of the right to free enterprise. Hospitals should be entirely free to inform patients they can expect excellent healthcare, even if the spokesperson is not certain the institution can provide it. Compelling hospitals to be forthright about the prospects for survival unnecessarily infringes on their right to misinform patients."

Commenting on the issue, Chief Justice John Roberts said, "I can't comment because I could get appendicitis at any time, and I certainly wouldn't want the hospital to suspect I may not, should I survive the operation, act in its best interest."

In an effort to bolster the government's case, the FDA plans to establish a task force composed of hospital inspectors who will impersonate patients. At the end of a one year trial, a determination will be made of how many are still alive. Further action will be based on the tally

Polygamists March; Demand Volume Discount On Marriage Licenses

Polygamists, under attack even in the generally tolerant and Mormon-populous state of Utah, marched on Washington, demanding what they regard as their right to a volume discount in the purchase of marriage licenses.

The demonstration was incited when a breakaway member of the Mormon Church, who is accused of seducing a minor female and matchmaking other minors females to older men, was buying so many marriage licenses that he had to rob a bank to pay for them. As a result of the armed banditry, he wound up on the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted List.

The bearded leader of the march explained, “When people only buy one marriage license, we can see why they’d have to pay the full freight. But when you’re like us and buy them on a regular basis, it’s only fair that you ought to get a break on the price.”

We were surprised in our assumptions, as usual, when we asked a female marcher why she, in this age of women's rights, would consent to be married to a man who has four or so wives. “It’s not like you think,” she told us. “I’m actually too independent to be married to any man full time. This way, my husband is so busy with his three other wives I only have to put up with him 25% of the time.”

New Cause of High Blood Pressure Revealed; Expecting Logical Behavior

A new study in The New England Journal Of Medicine reveals that one of the principal causes of high-blood pressure in the contemporary world is logical thinking.

A researcher commented on the surprise finding, saying, “Look it’s basically an illogical world out there. So the more you try to deal with it logically, the more upset you’re bound to become – and up shoots your blood pressure. We found that, when we convince patients to give up interfacing with the world with the expectations that logical thinking sets up, they immediately become far more relaxed and, as a result, their blood pressure drops, often returning to normal levels.”

When asked if there might be other undiscovered factors that contribute to high blood pressure, he said, “Oh, absolutely. For instance, we’ve got a study in the works right now on that insidious culprit, sensitivity.”

“Sensitivity?” we asked.

“Yes,” he went on, “You see the modern world, especially as we interface with it through the mass media and frequently in corporate life, appears wildly insensitive to our individual wishes, so the more sensitive you are, the more likely it is to upset you. So we’re looking into how we can condition people to feel less, at least, when dealing with larger entities.”

“What about sensitivity in our personal lives? Is that still OK?”

“Well, I’d like to think so. But, since many domestic spats lead to higher blood pressure, we’re also considering a study to determine the benefits of reducing sensitivity in personal life.”

“But what good is it,” we inquired, “to have normal blood pressure if you’re determined to be illogical and insensitive?”

“Well, that’s part of the problem. In some ways, the cure may be worse than the disease. Of course, the ultimate way to lower your blood pressure is to die, but we don’t see that as a viable area for a long-term study.”

Movie Stars As Sources Of Wisdom

Why do many people look to movie stars for answers to some of life's most challenging questions?

While we have great respect for the art of acting, as explicated from Stanislavsky to Strasberg, the latter of whom we knew well and were fond of, we have never understood how the usual snippets who decide to become actors ascend in the minds of the public from being initially generally regarded as likely ne’er-do-wells to being considered the most readily available font of insightful advice on just about every topic that troubles the frontal lobe of contemporary humanity.

Are we so doubtful of our own confidence to make up our minds that the resplendent light in which a current movie star is illuminated by his own publicity agents blinds us to the very probable vapidity of his or her own mind? After all, there is a certain disjunction between what movie stars do to win our attentions and what we expect of them once they succeed.

They bring themselves to our attention by committing to memory, or by reading off one kind of prompter or another, words devised by others. We won’t go so far as to say they achieve renown by presenting the thoughts of others, since realistic drama, in most of its contemporary manifestations, is apparently unable to present characters who might actually have an occasional considerable thought.

But, once they ascend to the starry vault that hovers over us, do we expect of them anything consonant with the ability to recite the usual inanities? No, suddenly we want these storied performers to transform themselves into the wise harbingers of original insight and exemplary advice. We even search the most mundane aspects of their personal lives for a hint or two as to how we might enhance the happiness of our own comparatively desultory lives. Or, just as often, we suppose, in the hope of finding that, despite their great reservoir of astonishing expertise, their own lives are inexplicably entangled in antics so confoundedly absurd that their shortcomings make us feel far superior in the relatively rickety guidance of our own lives.

Since we can only be sure that the lights of stage and screen will continue to be presented to us with all the wiles that can be managed through the deft employment of colorful media, as the engaging exemplars of how we should only hope to live, it appears that the only way to alter the mutual mockery is to become more realistic about what we really ought to expect from our dazzling stars-brights.