Issue Nine
Cliff Johnson’s Treasures from the InterWeb
December 2016
 

>Take One<

What did the bra say to the hat?

You go on a head. I’ll give these two a lift.

>Take Two<

The Circle of Life.

I bought a wastebasket the other day and carried it home in a plastic bag.

When I got home, I put the plastic bag in the wastebasket.

>Take Three<

The man says, “My bulldog is cross-eyed. Is there anything you can do for him?”

The vet says, “Well, let’s have a look.”

He picks the bulldog up and examines his eyes.

Finally he says, “I’m going to have to put him down.”

“What? Just because he’s cross-eyed?”

“No, because he’s really heavy.”

>Take Four<

Fractured Prose:

He was as tall as a six-foot-three-inch tree.

The politician’s absence went unnoticed, like the period after the Dr. on a Dr Pepper can.

The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.

The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

I saw her sitting at the bar. I approached. “Hello,” she said in a voice so husky it could pull a dog sled.

Bob pulled back, emotionally, just like a bicycle rider lifts his butt from the seat when he sees a bump coming.

He felt used and abandoned, like two halves of an Oreo cookie after someone has already licked the cream out of them.

>Take Five<

Two hot dogs and a hamburger walk into a bar.

The bartender says, “I’m sorry, we don’t serve food here.”

>Take Six<

A father dressed up as Santa and asked his son what he wanted for Christmas.

The boy cried, “An electric train set!”

“If I bring you the train,” he told him, “your dad might want to play with it too. Is that all right?”

The son became very quiet.

The father asked, “What else would you like Santa to bring you?”

The son replied, “Another train set.”

>Take Seven<

My jokes are still in alpha.

Hopefully, soon, they’ll get beta.

>Cut<

>Print<

Sign Slander.


That oughta do it.


Wrap it Your Way.


My Inner Child.


Election 2016.


Canadian Ingenuity.


Holiday Traffic in Los Angeles.


King Kong versus Saint Nick.


Cujo’s Winter Wonderland.


Because it’s there.

The rock group that don’t sing or play instruments.


Dressed for the Occasion.


Busted.


Well Challenged.


Holidays in Japan.


ER Cheer.


Frosty the Mailbox.


Popular Office Gift.


Be Prepared.


Happy Kiss Moose.

One Windy Day.

I’ve got my eyes on you.

Summer Slip.

Autumn Ambush.

Winter Will Power.

Bag of Chips Romeo.

Flipping Out.

Gymnasty.

Close Call.

Knocked Down.

Wiped Out.

A public service for those of you who need to learn a new national anthem.
Squares Circled.
Jingle Cat.

With The Fool and his Money buttoned up, I’m writing my once and future novel CRAFTPUPPET.

I thought I was indecisive. Now I’m not so sure.

After all is said and done, more is said than done.

I went to the Air and Space Museum, but there was nothing there.

The town cemetery raised its rates, and blamed it on the cost of living.

People who hand out fliers are really saying, “Here, you throw this away.”

It’s simple to make something complex, and complex to make something simple.

Boxing is like ballet, except there’s no music, no choreography, and the dancers hit each other.

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