“I have 140 towels from the Hyatt, Holiday Inn, and the Hilton hotel chains. I never thought I had a problem until guests praised the set,” said a disgusted Kimbel, now in group therapy.

The stealing started four years ago when Kimbel and his wife, Elena, were overcharged for a one-night stay in downtown Chicago. Soon after, the Kimbels had accumulated a number of cloths ranging from face towels to bath towels.

Elena thought it would be neat to display them throughout their home, but guests began admiring the collection, as if it was a museum. “The set is incredible. There are so many of them, I had to get photographs taken. Now I have a picture above my fireplace,” commented Hunter Williams, a longtime friend who now realizes his pants are missing.

Kimbel meets for therapy every Thursday and has apologized to Williams for stealing his pants. As for the towel set, they’re still on display in the Kimbel’s house, which can be seen Monday through Friday from 9-5, for only $3.00.

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This was back in the days when straight guys got perms and wore high-heeled shoes, otherwise known as platforms. Rick Dees made a hit with ‘Disco Duck’ and ‘Alright’ by Nipsey Russell turned into ‘Dynomite!’ by Good Time’s Jimmie Walker.

What I want to know is, who came up with the idea for Mrs. Beasley? Is it just me or is this how they came up with the look for Sally Jessy Raphael? I believe the blue dress with white polka dots and yellow trim is what led me to make horrible fashion choices during my high school years.

‘Brick House’ pushed up the idea of silicone inserts, G.I. Joe was obviously a ‘Village People’ inspiration and Donny and Marie sure made a great couple! Satin was all the rage and Harry Krishna people took up more street corners than hookers.

These were the days when normal families could go to the state fair and not get hurt and depression was something that happened in the 1930s. Because our mothers were on a diet, we had to choke down gallons of Tab and shagging was what you did to the carpet when you vacuumed.

During these ‘days of our lives’, our mood rings were always blue, though we never were, and the Ouija board really could talk by itself! The world was going to come to an end at any moment and Nixon was a great president.

Having a ‘light-bulb’ moment meant you were actually considering changing out the light bulbs in the house and a talk show was a reputable program to watch. Small children were afraid of Ozzy Osborne and ‘Charlie’s Angels’ sure were smart.

Liposuction was something you did at parties and living up to everyone’s expectations meant making your bed, taking out the trash and being a pain in the neck until it was time to go to sleep.

Budda was something you shook at a dance and karma was something you put over apples. A ‘dead head’ was a cool thing to be and ‘fudging’ was something our moms made with Hershey’s cocoa when they were cheating on their diets.

Ma Bell was the only phone company around and receiving a telemarketing call at night was a thrilling, new experience. Throwing up after you eat happened because you had a stomach virus and you didn’t think it was strange that your dentist gave you candy after a check-up.

A lot has changed since the 1970s. Our thoughts and perceptions have sharpened and, in some ways, made life more difficult than it has to be and we are all looking way too much like our parents these days.

These days ‘big brother’ is a program on television and judgment isn’t saved for the end of your life, but is a part of your life every day. I can’t help but wonder if life does come full circle, will we be as light-hearted being seventy as we were living in the 1970s?

And, if so, instead of deteriorating can we get upgrades like the ‘six million dollar man’?

The post A Generation Grows Up: A Culture Grows Old appeared first on Just Laugh.

“I don’t know what got into him this morning,” The Supreme Being grumbled, “He’s always so punctual.”

Rumors have it that a one night stand with Mother Nature could have been the cause.

“Every one of us Figments of Imagination know that those two have been hot an heavy for a while,” whispered Harvey the Rabbit. “I just find it too ironic that on the same day Father Time was late, the North Pole was 121 degrees. It seems to me like both of them were too busy bopping to do their job.”

Mother Nature’s live-in boyfriend, Jack Frost, disputes the claim. “Mother Nature was with me last night. As far as the North Pole, I left more than enough snow for them when I punched out last night. It’s Mrs. Claus’ excessive use of aerosol hairspray that causes the ozone above the North Pole to rip. Ask my poor buddy, Frosty – Global Warming is a bitch.”

Father Time’s work attendance record has been perfect since the beginning of time. However, this slight lapse caused the Supreme Being to consider hiring an extra part time employee to do the task of managing the universe’s time if this incident should happen again. The Supreme Being reported that the selection will not be easy, as the Figment of Imagination would have to have some concept of time. It has been rumored that the top contender for the position is the rabbit from Alice in Wonderland. However, this rumor has been denied by a spokesperson for the Supreme Being due to the rabbit’s notorious tardiness record.

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“I’ve been dumped many times before. It hurts, but this last time takes the cake,” said Mero, thinking about converting to lesbianism, but probably won’t because she doesn’t like the word lesbian.

Mero dated Jay Evans, a 23-year-old construction worker, for seven months. Prior to the affair, Evans had been single for three years.

“She (Joely) was terrific. She was great in bed, but I was single for a long time. I kind of grew accustomed to masturbating. When I started dating Joely, I missed the feel of my hand,” commented Evans, now happy with his choice.

Evans’ decision is really a no brainer, according to Dr. Mia Ponini, director at the Institute of Lost Loves. “If you think about it, Evans doesn’t have to marry his hand, doesn’t have to buy it things, and more importantly, doesn’t have to call it in the morning,” said Dr. Ponini, who recently dumped her boyfriend for her finger.

Mero is now dating a vibrator. They live in separate homes.

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It had been a very quiet day at the Littlefolk Senior Center in Southern Florida. A few games of pinocle, a short walk around the garden, and an investment in the second largest bankrupt corporation in U.S. history — all over a simple survey.

“I have no idea how this happened,” explained Nancy Loveland, a young woman who had been working at the center for nearly six months. “We knew that everyone needed some new activities to keep them busy, so we handed out a survey to help determine what the Seniors would enjoy the most. Something, however, went terribly wrong!”

“Wha?” responded 87-year-old Robert Cuhounga when he was asked about the questionaire. “Survey? Back in Nam, we didn’t have time to fill out stinkin’ surveys…”

Luckily for us, Beverly Chase, 92, was able to shed a little light on the subject, “Well, you see – the survey was pretty…well.confusing, you see? I mean, there were all of these choices and boxes and arrows – I couldn’t even read half of the thing!”

“Well, it doesn’t really surprise me, to tell you the truth,” related Administration Director Daryl Lainsworth. “This isn’t the first time something like this has happened…maybe you recall a certain ‘election’ a couple years ago? At least no harm was done this time, except for the fact that they could’ve gotten a better deal on paper by going to the store instead of purchasing 200,000 stock certificates worth about thirteen cents a piece. We were thinking about wallpapering the center this fall anyways, though, so it’ll all work out in the end.”

We were not able to reach a representative from WorldCom for comment on this story, or any more from Littlefolk Senior Center for that matter – apparently 6pm means naptime, in both instances…

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Face it, every generation adds to and redefines the English language as we know it. In fact, language has strayed so far in meaning from its original origins, you can imagine a teen from today praising Thomas Edison for electric light: “Yo Tommy! I’m givin’ you your props for that totally phat light dope. Ain’t no dissin’ you, it’s da bomb!” I do believe Mr. Edison would turn out the lights, lay back down and roll over in his grave.

There are so many terms in use by today’s kids, I thought it may be useful to provide a brief translation for you. It may help the next time your child turns to you and says, “You are so phat Mom. You ain’t no scrub.” (Hint: That’s a compliment.)

SPANK: When I was growing up, this was not a word that carried a single good connotation. If anything, you moved as fast as you could to get a book down your pants before your parents caught up to you. Nowadays “spank” means good, great, fabulous. “What a spank tongue stud!”

SCRUB: Ask any Mom and she’ll tell you this involves all the glamour only a brush and a toilet bowl can provide. Ask a teenager and they will quickly inform you it defines any guy or gal who is undateable, ambitionless, basically a toilet bowl with legs.

DOG/DAWG: Suffice it to say I grew up defining dog quite simply: Woof. We even stretched it to describe a person whose appearance caused eyeball assault. These days, kids use it to define a good friend. “Hey man, you are such a dawg!” Hmmmm, I still don’t think it sounds like a compliment.

PROPS: Being a Theater major, these were always the bits and pieces of scenery on the stage. Today’s slang for respect, as in proper respect, you hear it quite a bit in the sports arena, “They are only paying me $14 million this season. Where’s my props, man?”

DOPE, PHAT, DA BOMB: All are now terms used to transfer favorable status to someone or thing. “That macaroni & cheese was da bomb, Mom!” When I was growing up dope was the term given to illicit drugs, phat described the period of my life when I actually ate Crisco out of the can and da bomb had to do with nuclear warheads – definitely not something favorable.

Computer terminology is quickly redefining and adding many terms:

BURN: This is typically what happens to the food when I have invited guests for dinner. This is also the new term given to the process of making your own CD’s on your computer. “Hey dude, can you burn me a copy of that new Bulging Snot tune?”CD: Even a two year old knows that a CD is the round shiny disc that makes Winnie the Pooh appear on the screen. When I was young, a CD was what my grandparents kept all their money in. Well, that and a couple dozen shoeboxes in their closet.

NAPSTER: The place on the web where your college age children spend their all their time downloading music instead of attending class. Personally “napster” is what I call my child when she is taking her afternoon break from riding my nerves.

Language will continue to be reshaped and expanded as each generation rides the pop culture wave over top of it. My advice? Don’t go trippin’. Just grab a teen homey, chill and don’t dis ‘em. Give them their props and they will have you talking like a phat baller in no time!

(Translation: Just invite a teenager over, relax and don’t put them down. Treat them like a human being and they will have you performing great slang-speak in no time!) Ain’t I a spank dawg?

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Pornography has become a serious issue ever since the inception of the Internet. And of course, we have none other than Al Gore to thank for it. After all, he invented the Internet. This is surely ironic because his wife Tipper (which incidentally is what you do to a waitress, a valet worker, and a cow), was one of the advocates for censorship on certain mediums. Just another example of a wife cleaning up her husband’s mistakes. I even think she’s still counting votes in Florida.

Because as of right now, the Internet is not regulated. There have been talks about trying to get adult related sites off of public computers, but it will never happen because it’s downright impossible. It’s impossible because there are a bunch of adult sites going up every day, so paying someone to scour the net, looking for these sites would be a task that even Hugh Hefner wouldn’t do. Of course, I would.

I would do this job, because it seems to me, that every time I’m on the Internet, I do one of two things. I check my email, or I look at porn. It’s impossible not to, look at porn I mean, which is why I end up with email messages with the subject: Britney HARD CORE!!!

A person could enter a vague, yet safe sounding word like ‘sugar’ into a search engine, and more than likely he’ll find Sugar, the exotic dancer from Las Vegas. This may be a good thing, if after all Sugar is missing and one of her friends is on Sally Jesse Raphael attempting to locate her. But if she’s not missing, than a woman looking for the history of sugar may just find the resume of one, Sugar Johnson, for whom only $25.00 will get you a private dance on a leather couch in some darkened room designated for such activities. At least this is what I’ve heard. I don’t really go to strip clubs, despite what you might hear from my friends, neighbors and fellow comedians.

Another device that’s trying to be implemented into public terminals is a filter, which filters adult words out, such as breast, penis, etc., so adult sites won’t be accessible. But the problem here is entering a word like breast cancer would limit a person’s research because breast is considered a naughty word, to a filter at least. And not to KFC.

Public Internet terminals are what people tend to be concerned about. Because they’re usually found in schools and libraries. To me, it doesn’t seem to be a problem, because so far I haven’t heard of any reports of a grade school student holding his class hostage with an adult attachment or a dildo. The thing about dildos is they’re shaped like nobody’s penis. Some look like a cactus, others a cork screw. I even saw one that looked like a Swiss army knife. You were able to pull out a pair of scissors from it, I swear.

Of course, the individual to thank for all these public terminals is Bill Gates, who strives to have every person in the world be able to log onto the Internet and, you guessed it, look at pornography. On a side note, maybe guns and ammo related searches should be filtered from public computers, with all the school shootings going on.

As for myself, as I’m on the Internet looking at porn, I find myself downloading pictures like I’m trying to get valuable information from a spy’s hard drive. Twenty a second it seems. For effect, I would yell, “C’mon! Hurry up. He’s coming.” In the years I’ve been surfing the net, I’ve accumulated an enormous library of pornography pictures. In fact, I have so much porn on my computer, my laptop took top honors at the AVN awards. I was also named the best for being the king of the right click, save, a title in which I still hold today.

So what I believe should occur with all the pornography available on the Internet is, everybody who locates pictures that I do not have, please forward them to me. Therefore, I will be able to expand my library, just in case the government does take action on porn on the Internet. And don’t worry, I’ll be sure to thank each and every one of you at next year’s award ceremony.

The post “Hi, My Name is Jason, and I’m a Pornoholic…” appeared first on Just Laugh.

Living in Northern Michigan, I’m pretty much exposed to tourists in one form or another during any given day, week or month. They come dashing in during the spring and summer months to splendor at the breath-taking views, the majestic scenery and the fudge, and scuttle off to warmer climates as fall and winter approach, slipping past a new group, this time consisting of snowboarders, skiing enthusiasts and general loonies, on the way out. Of course, neither group can stand the other nor their inherited weather patterns, so both choose to commute on a regular basis, sometimes traveling thousands of miles for a single pound of fudge. Honestly, this wouldn’t necessarily have to be a bad thing, except for the fact that they all take to the highways to make their seasonal migration from heaven to hell.

My own personal driving experience is limited to the eastern half of the United States. I’ve never been even as far west as the Rocky Mountains and I can only imagine what driving in Los Angeles is like…isn’t that where Sony did most of their research for Grand Theft Auto III? Anyways, even though I haven’t driven in anywhere near the majority of the states, I have noticed one thing that’s similar among those I have seen – their traffic laws are all nearly identical. That’s right, I’ve yet to cross a state-line and suddenly find myself driving on the wrong side of the road or in some bizarre Reverso-Land where green means STOP, red means GO and nobody still has any idea what to do on yellow! Nevertheless, there must be some state hiding in a corner somewhere which just has the most insane road rules anyone could think of because these people I’m dealing with up here have to be coming from somewhere…

It starts with the fairly simple ones: making right turns on red, staying in the right lane for slower vehicles, and so forth, but the one that I don’t understand – the simplest of them all, as far as I’m concerned – YOU CAN GO WHEN THE LIGHT TURNS GREEN! Apparently many of these folks have the reaction time of a turtle on acid because I can’t count the number of times I’ve sat at a green light for more than twenty seconds while the guy in front decides what he’s going to do. It always happens in the most inconvenient places, too – everyone has a place like this in their hometown, where high and low volume traffic meets and the light timing is ridiculously off – it’ll be green for hours for the cross traffic, then the other side might turn green for roughly fifteen seconds…and typically this would be amble time to get across the street if Captain Decisionahead of you would just go already…

…And then there’s the Winnebago drivers. I don’t mean to rag on the senior citizens, but they’re the ones who keep buying these freightliners and thus they’re opening themselves up for ridicule. Aside from musicians who practically live on the road, nobody needs this much room…ever! What I don’t understand is that pretty much anybody is allowed to drive one of this giants, regardless of the fact that they can’t see without their coke-bottle glasses or hear without their hearing aid turned up full blast – don’t they have tests for these things or something?!?!? It’s bad enough when you encounter an elderly woman driving a Caddy in which she can’t see over the steering wheel – yeah, let’s put ’em in something even bigger! As far as I’m concerned, each state should require driver’s license retesting yearly when any of your senses start to fade, and there should most definitely be extra tests for anyone driving a vehicle the size of a small house – semi drivers have hours and hours of testing to complete before they’re allowed out on the open road, so why do we simply hand over the keys the second these geezers sign the check?

There are so many things about these types of drivers that irritate me, I just don’t know where to start – the inability to go over 45 mph on a two-lane road, the lack of turn signal use and abrupt stopping, but what gets to me the most is how impossible they make it to pass them. You’ve been following patiently behind them for almost an hour, staring at the flashy letters Road King embossed on the back door. It’s one of those windy, hilly roads in the country, so there’s absolutely no chance of passing and the frequent speed drops around corners arereally starting to get annoying! Nevertheless, you see it up in the distance –Passing Lane, Two Miles Ahead. Could it really be true? You dingle with anticipation as the thought of finally passing Grampa fills your head. Finally you reach the moment of truth and the road widens to accommodate an additional lane – you instantly move to the left lane and floor it – this lane isn’t going to last very long, but it will serve its purpose well. Or at least it’s trying to serve its purpose, but as you look into your rearview mirror, expecting to see Gramps enjoying your dust for dinner, all you can see is the empty road behind you…

“What the?” you wonder…where did he go? Nervously looking to your right, you spot the Road King cruising along beside you, now going nearly 70 mph. What is it about four-lane roads that make people temporarily think that they’re allowed to go faster than the speed limit? It’s not a brief freeway, so just what the hell is he doing besides completely crushing your dream of passing him? Soon you see another sign in the distance – Passing Lane Ends, Merge Left – and you instantly know that you’ve lost, again. The old man can’t even see you, so you drop back only seconds before he swings his behemoth back into the left lane. You flip him the bird and blast your horn, but he has absolutely no idea of what’s just happened. He drops his speed back down to 45 mph and you sigh as you realize that the next passing lane isn’t for another 50 miles.

It’s a good thing that the phrase Tourist Season is just a slang term because I’m guessing it would be a very popular activity up here, both for sport and for recreation…

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My freshman year of college, I went without TV for a year. By May, I felt I had gained a lot from not wasting my time in front of a television. Sophomore year, my roommate brought his own TV. By May, I realized how stupid I was for feeling that I had gained a lot from not wasting my time in front of a television.

I’m not one of those people who will schedule his life around a TV show, especially since Seinfeld is only on in syndication. But if I’m around and not doing anything that requires a ton of concentration, I’ll turn it on and my life will be better for it.

I like watching Sportscenter as I wake up in the morning, and as I fall asleep at night. The only thing better than new movies on HBO are old ones on Comedy Central, which also shows stand-up comedy for hours at a time. And it’s scientifically proven – old episodes of Cheers make food taste better. It’s kind of like Adobo that way.

Adobo commercials totally miss their mark. I first heard of Goya (Oh Boya!) when I was seven, but never tasted Adobo until I was in college and someone forcefully put it on my food. I have used it on everything since. Maybe Goya could just drop the commercials and use the money to pay people to knock on your door and sprinkle some Adobo on your dinner.

Some people call television the idiot box, and I think that’s true, to a degree. Televsion, like most good products, trusts the consumer to make the right decisions with how to use it. Ice cream is a wonderful product, but I imagine it’s not a good paperweight. Similarly, you will fail if you try to use TV as a way to baby-sit your kids or to educate your idiot husband that you only married because you got knocked up in the back of his truck. That was redundant. If you use the phrase “knocked up,” it obviously happened in the back of a truck.

Along with marathons of Twilight Zone and Bill Murray movies, there comes a certain price we have to pay. Like Lifetime, television for people who don’t like television. The one good thing Lifetime has going for it is The Golden Girls, which is less a show about four old ladies and more a show about making fun of everyone you don’t like.

TV can be the idiot box if you are an idiot, and like to watch other idiots interview more idiots about how their idiot wives cheated on their idiot selves with their idiot brothers (or idiot sisters). But to an educated consumer, television offers bite-sized entertainment, and I do not feel uncultured for enjoying it. Just because a TV set is smaller than a movie screen doesn’t make what’s on it any less worthwhile. Oooh, maybe I could get a TV set the size of a movie screen. That’d be hot.

I know that I’ve lost a lot of time watching TV. A kid I went to high school with grew up with no TV and he won the Westinghouse science talent search. But that is him, and I am me. I know that if I didn’t have a TV, I would just play more ping pong. Which is what I did all of freshman year.

One of the best shows on TV was Dream On, which was about a guy who thought in old TV clips. That’s perfectly accurate for so many of us because TV was our first look at the outside world. “How sad,” you might think. Only if your parents had that look be the wrong shows. My first look at the world was through a hundred little blue men who always triumphed over evil, followed by a bunch of robotic lions that united to destroy a common enemy who was always the same size as all five of them put together. If your kid’s first look at the world is two suburban teenagers who like fire, he’s going to burn down your house. But if you show him the right stuff first, he’ll probably remember the episode where the Smurfs told him not to play with matches.

And perhaps the best thing about TV is that it eliminates poor conversation. If you have something to say, you can shut off the TV and say it. But if you ever need to fill dead air, a little half-hour happiness is much better than prattling on about something useless. If you’d ever like to not talk to me, I’d be glad to come to your place and watch.

Unless your TV has a hole in the side of it. Then I think I’ll stay home and play ping pong.

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