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i love having a ten year archive of quips about the news

at some point the k218b dimethyl sulfide paper is going to get published and every astronomer in the world is going to slew in your direction like "oh so you finally heard about that" and then they will pull out a folder of outreach curricula on spectroscopy and dimethyl sulfide formation pathways that they've been preparing for the past couple years. so watch out for that

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due to the price of eggs, suggestions for easter dye substitutes include marshmallows and potatoes. which insignificant as it may be it really just like. inadvertently reveals a fundamental process of christianity. you can fit anything in there. it's just a hole

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has anybody else noticed there have been fewer ufo sightings since we stopped analog television broadcasting

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teaching my boyfriend's dog the word "chill" which has naturally led to a neverending stream of funny things to say to a dog, such as for example "oh are we chilling?" "that's not very chill of you" "can i trust you to chill while i'm gone?" etc. (that last one was for the cat, whose behavior is not correlated with whether he understands what i want him to do, but still)

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i've had this idea kicking around for a few days, like "what if we haven't even invented music yet." like not music obviously because that's already been done. but some other thing. what if there's a thing that will become as ubiquitous and generally well liked as music that we haven't figured out yet

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bart summer

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due to overwhelmingly positive feedback to my pitch for "flop hour" six months ago which i never followed up on, for my inaugural post in this post series i'm going to be featuring everyone's favorite controversial british white girl with dreads i found on cd for a penny plus shipping on amazon with her alanis-collaborator-glen-ballard-produced sophomore flop, 2002's "wake" by sheila nicholls! coming a long way from the practically solo piano musings of her debut, from its incisive critiques of children who ideologically buy into the mcdonalds happy meal marketing scheme for disney's hercules to the hopefully metaphorical one about getting fucked to death ostensibly out of boredom while trapped in an elevator, now she's got stripped down trip hop adjacent breakup songs about eating bread and a seven-minute epic treatise on moths. i'm not sure when she went streaking at a sports event, but that also did happen. truly... a flop you can't miss (applause sign lights up) (crickets) (all of the other lights go out in the studio, which is empty) (cut to emergency broadcast system)

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i am receiving insider reports of a slurpee machine heist at your local target supercenter. the alleged accused allegedly unplugged them and loaded them up into a cart and started wheeling them toward the fire exit where their getaway driver was parked while yet another slurpee crisis actor created a diversion by standing in line at a register and yelling "i'm going to kill everyone in this motherfucking building" and then immediately backing down and going like "you know what nevermind" when it became evident that the slurpee machine heist was going off without a hitch, which has been described by bystanders as "a bit much, don't you think? like they could have just taken them"

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every time i drop a nug i feel like scrat

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my buddy: straight gas it's called 808 cowbell

me: no way

me 4mins later:

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at the grocery store while i was checking out, a lone tiger leapt up onto the conveyor belt and when it stepped over the barcode scanner it beeped. and they had to call over a shift lead to void it. like no i am not buying that tiger. thank you. i mean it's either that or i'm buying waaaay more chicken, right? i can't afford no tiger in this economy. so naturally i get out to my car and it's curled up on the passenger seat because i didn't know i had a sunroof. and it's raining. i'm getting arrested for shoplifting a tiger and they don't even stock those. the impound lot bills me a fee for large animal repair and there wasn't even anything wrong with it

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she always looks sooo done with my jokes and i'm not sure if it's just because that's what she looks like or because i'm literally always saying stuff like "if you were canonized as a saint in the catholic church you would be called our lady of perpetual scratching"

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it's not a dire wolf in the sense that it's a dire wolf, it's a dire wolf in the sense that the state of the art of wolfing is dire. this is the best wolf we can wolf. that's what's dire. it's like some kind of literary thing

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when i call something "beautiful clean" later it's because of this. i have a feeling that's not going to come across clearly if this flies under the radar so i would like to note it now

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the student said, "i'm reading a book about fucking. with no illustrations." the teacher replied, "ah, dogen's instructions for the cock, written in 1237?" thank you. this completes my triptych of jokes. great book. don't forget to tip your bartender good night (turns into one hundred apple pay enabled moths and steals everybody's credit card information)

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the department of dog efficiency is bringing back pneumatic vacuum tube messaging systems in government offices "because they honor the chthonic, divine feminine essence" which is of course bullshit