7" of Separation

I will post again. I promise.

Wow. It is so racist at one point it stops making sense.

Propaganda!

A little addicting game.

It’s like stripped down Risk.

Outside my door the other night:

Today, I made my way up to Monroe, a small community of 680 people that sits between Junction City and Corvallis on Hwy. 99.

Monroe is a very sweet little town with a few taverns, one general store, its own two-school district and a tiny museum filled with sweet little ladies.

The grade school vice principal enjoys getting her school in the paper, and truthfully, I always enjoy going up and taking pictures. Smiling kids always test well with small papers, and honestly, they are cute.

Today, the kids were having an assembly to see a professional storyteller. This guy was amazing. He engaged these kids in a way that TV never could. They were yelling back, reacting to his every movement and genuinely interested in what he had to say. Most importantly, he had good messages — wholesome, pure lessons, which kids should never have enough. It was really amazing watching him engage the kids this way, and it made me sad to think about how much time we spend watching television when there are folk-artists out there like this guy, who has an amazing way of engaging people. Not just were the kids entertained, I was smiling and so were the teachers. This was fun.

Anyway, while waiting for other classes to arrive, the storyteller asked the kids already there if they had any jokes. They told a few bad jokes — they kind kids tell on the spot, made up and non sequitur. Then, he had a go at it…

“Why didn’t the skeleton cross the road?” he asked. A few kids yelled out bad attempts at funny answers. “Nope, because he didn’t have any guts.”

Budum Bum

“Why did the spider cross the road?” again, bad answers and blank stares.
“To visit his new Web site!” Ha Ha Ha… laughter all around.

Kids seem to love bad jokes. And that’s okay, they should.

But really, adults should secretly love bad jokes too. They are easy to remember and fun to tell because they are completely stupid.

That moment where you try hard for the laugh and get noting but disappointment is a socially awkward, yet completely comfortable, situation. Break the ice with bad jokes, just be sure your audience knows they are supposed to be bad. Have fun with them, because that’s what they are meant for.

However, this does leave me questioning where bad jokes come from, besides bad joke books. Where do the books come from?

I imagine a man — a lonely man — sitting in a dark hotel room, cigarette in hand, slowly filling the room with haze. The room would be poorly lit, perhaps by a lamp affixed to the wall on one of those gold plates. The flower print comforter pulled back, the man sits in bed with the curtains drawn.

“Why did the dinosaur cross the road?” he asks himself out loud.

Why, indeed.

If not a little creepy, this half-motivated me to join the Libertarian party. Is that a Hooters girl walking by with a tray of beer?

Well, I have been swamped at work, plus I got sick. My blog fell by the wayside. Lame.

I do have some developments, though. However, I think they are going to have to wait. I am in the process of outlining a new Web site. I want to get my portfolio up on the web and offer writing services as well. So, that is taking up my evening time. Stay tunned for updates.