Do you ever wonder how something becomes a Thing? I wonder about it all the time. How did knock, knock jokes become a Thing? Can you imagine the first person to tell a knock, knock joke?

“I’m going to say, ‘Knock, knock,’ and you say, ‘Who’s there?’ OK?”


“You’ll see.  Just do it.”

“But you’re standing right here.  Why should I ask, ‘Who’s there?'”

“C’mon.  Please?”

“Will you stop pestering me if I do it?”



“Knock, knock.”

“Who’s there?”


“Why are we doing this?”

“No, you’re supposed to say, ‘Lettuce who?'”

“I don’t understand.”

“Just say it.”

“Is Lettuce someone’s first name?”

“Come on.  Just say it.”

“Do I know more than one person named Lettuce so I need to ask which one I’m talking to?”

“You’re thinking too much.”

“Will you stop pestering me if I say it?”


“Lettuce who?”

“Lettuce in, it’s raining.”

“That was a whole lot of effort for nothing.”

And yet, all it takes is for someone to say, “Knock, knock,” and everyone automatically says, “Who’s there?” How did that become a Thing?


Something Unexpected Is Happening

As I mentioned in my last post, I wrote a book.  The name of the book is “What Happened to Mommy’s Boobs?”  I wrote the book to help a friend going through breast cancer treatments.  The proceeds are going to breast cancer research.  I really wasn’t expecting much.  I figured if I was lucky, I’d make my friend laugh and raise 5 bucks for a good cause.  But now something is happening and I don’t know what to think of it.

Amazon has a section on their listings that says, “Customers who viewed this item also viewed.”  If you look at this section on my book’s page, it appears that people are stumbling upon my book while looking for pornography.  Part of me finds this to be very amusing.  I can’t imagine how disappointed they must be when they search for boobs and all they get is stick figures talking about breast cancer.  But, I also find it a little disturbing.  Boobs is in my book’s title because my friend suggested it, and it’s funnier that way.  I can assure you that pornography, or any sort of objectification, wasn’t in any way intended.  And, I think the disturbing thing is that I’m afraid of guilt by association.  If people see my book in with these other titles, they may get the wrong idea.

So, I think I’ll choose to be amused, but hope that more people will search for my book and also view some more wholesome titles.  Maybe a Dr. Seuss or Eric Carle book.  I’d be thrilled to be associated with them.


“Well, what have we here? We weren’t expecting you for quite some time. What happened?”

“‘Scuse me?”

“We thought we had another 20-25 years before you got here,” the gate attendant replied.

Jack looked around at the fluffy ground and giant golden gate in front of him.  “Am I dead?” he asked.


“Wow.  How’d that happen?”

“That’s what I’ve been asking you.”

“You mean you don’t know?”

“Of course not,” the attendant replied.  “Free will and all that.  I had you on December 27th, 2035.  I’m Pedro, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you,” Jack mumbled.  He was thinking.  “You know what?  I think Cinnamon killed me.”

“That might be a first.  What do you mean?”

“Well,” Jack responded.  “Wait.  What do you mean you ‘had’ me in 2035?”

Pedro blushed a little and said, “We’re not really proud of this, but there’s quite a bit of wagering on earthly matters up here.”

“Huh.  Well, anyway, I was reading this thing about ‘Wonder Foods’ or something like that.  And they said everyone should eat a lot more cinnamon.  It’s great for you and an anti-inflammatory and cures diabetes and blindness and stuff.  So, I figured I’d give it a shot and I started eating more cinnamon at every meal.  I’d have coffee cake or donuts or cinnamon buns or french toast at almost every meal.”

“Now, that’s just plain stupid.”

“I know, but it sure was delicious.”

A Daylight Savings Conversation with Me, My Ten Month Old Daughter and Our Cat

This is the conversation as it actually occurred.

Me: It’s time to go to sleep, sweetie.
Daughter: But, Father, it’s still light outside. Why must I sleep?
Me: Daylight savings started today. It’s your bedtime. And if you stay awake much longer, you won’t wake up on time tomorrow.
Daughter: Daylight savings? How can that be? We’ve not yet reached the Vernal Equinox.
Me: I know. Congress went and changed the rules a few years ago.
Daughter: Was that a good thing for them to do?
Me: I don’t think so.
Daughter: But didn’t Benjamin Franklin come up with the idea? He was a genius, so it must be a good idea.
Me: Even very smart people have bad ideas.
Daughter: I see. Well, I shall retire now if I must. See you on the morrow.
Me: Good night. Love you.
Cat: People are idiots.

This is what my wife says she heard.

Me: Please go to sleep.
Daughter: Baa ba da baa ba.
Me: I know daylight savings is stupid and you’re too little to understand, but please, please, please go to sleep.
Daughter: Weee ba da da baaa!
Me: Shhhh, go sleepy, go sleepy.
Cat: Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow.
Daughter: Uh, whaa, whaa, whaa.
Me: Cat, shhhh. Are you out of food? No. You’re fine. Be quiet.
Daughter: Ummmm, whewhewheaaaa.
Cat: Meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow, meow.
Me: Ben Franklin was a moron. I hate freakin’ daylight freakin’ savings.