3 old jokes from the 1950s or 60s:
what is purple and lies in the atlantic ocean? – grape britain.
what is purple and lies on the bottom of the ocean? – moby grape.
what is purple and punishable by 10 to 20 years? – statutory grape.
and my new one:
what’s purple and angry and you’d better stay out of its way? – the grape of wrath.
my new grape joke goes with my new chicken joke:
double cross: why did the chicken cross the road? – to get revenge for the road crossing him.
i’ve created an original grape joke, and i’ve created an original chicken crossing the road joke. not many can claim that. i can quit now, rest on my laurel.
one of my all time favorite jokes from the 50s is the one where the 5 year old boy comes into the kitchen licking his fingers and says, “mom – remember that soft spot in baby’s head?”
when my mom got hit by a car in cleveland in 1999, at the hospital she told me the back of her head hurt. i gently touched it, and it was all soft. the driver who backed his car into her fled the country, went to poland. it took her 6 more years, but that is when mother dwarf started dying. if i met that driver now, i would want to hurt him – but i wouldn’t. just because he was stupid, careless, weak, foolish, and cowardly doesn’t make him evil – just human. we’re all stupid, weak, careless, foolish cowards at one or more times in our life. considering the mistakes in my own life, what right do i have to judge another? still, i feel anger… his carelessness cost my mother her life. human is as human does.
how quickly the brain moves from juvenile jokes to serious pain. ying yang orangutan give a god a bone.
went for my daily fresh bread. pointed at 2 small loaves of brown wholegrain. lady frowned. chattered at me in french. i mangled “je non comprends pas francais” (which sounds like zhe no com-cron(d) pah fron-say, and means i do not understand french). i think she got my gist before my second syllable. she chattered some more. frowned. i shrugged my shoulders, raised my hands, palms up in a frenchish sort of way. she stared at me in silence. i figured maybe someone else had reserved those two loaves. she brightened and went back in the bakery, came out with a large calendar – pointed to today’s date, looked at me, pointed to the bread, then pointed at yesterday’s date. she didn’t want to sell me day old bread. they take bread seriously here. i laughed, nodded, swept my finger along all the bread, and raised my eyebrows. she pointed. i nodded. she spouted price sounds at me. i held my change out in my palm and she picked a few coins out, and smiled at me. i am the stranger in their land. i miss not knowing what’s going on, but i get by by saying hello, please, thank you and goodbye in each land’s language while smiling, pointing and grunting for all the rest.
