Blackmail
















To You Whom It May Concern,

I am in possession of certain facts and sensitive material that have no relevance to you in any way.

Unless you deliver $1 million in unmarked coins to my home within 48 hours, I will be forced to release this irrelevant material to the newspapers, which, in all likelihood, will not publish it.

This is your next-to-last warning!

Ima Moron
54321 Blastoff Avenue,
Zoloft, CA 98765-4321


P.S. Do not give my address to the police.





~ by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved





Teapot Song




I'm a little teapot
Short and stout,
Kick me in the rear
And step on my snout.

I'm a little teapot
Fat and wide,
Take me to the slaughterhouse
And cut off my hide!





~ Poem & artwork by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved





Fried Chicken Crossing















Why did the chicken cross the road?

To get away from Colonel Sanders!





~ by Russ Allison Loar
~ Illustration by ?
© All Rights Reserved




Afterlife


The first tribunal was with the chickens.

“According to our records,” the chief justice rooster announced in a loud, screeching voice, assuring he would be heard all the way back to the very last row of the cavernous courtroom, packed with clucking hens and muttering roosters of all kinds and colors.

“According to our records, during your lifetime, you have eaten," he paused with grave solemnity, "the equivalent of 5,693 chickens,” he declared, pointing his beak menacingly at me, his wattles inflated with indignation.

I shivered at the totality of it all.

“The accused will stand before this court.”

I stood.

“Do you wish to make a statement before sentence is passed?”

“Yes,” I barely answered in tremulous voice.

“Proceed.”

Summoning up my courage, knowing there was little I could say that would alter my fate, I cleared my throat, took a deep breath, and at the top of my voice cried out:

“Cock-A-Doodle-Doo!”



~ by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved





I've Been Busy!


Brian Williams and I were recently embedded in Afghanistan but we got separated from our military escort and were lost for a week at the Kandahar International Airport, living on vending machine candy and coffee.

Then, in the middle of the night, the ghost of Robert Frost suddenly appeared on a luggage carousel, enshrouded in a glowing blue-white mist. He spoke to us:

"Whose woods these are I think I know, his house is in the village though," pointing toward the northeast quadrant of the airport. At first I had no idea what this meant, but he kept repeating the phrase in a louder and louder voice: "His house is in the village though," until at last, almost shouting he said:


"HIS HOUSE IS IN THE VILLAGE YOU DUMMY!"

This final outburst awakened Brian and between the two of us we realized Frost was directing us to a part of the airport that would facilitate our escape.

By early morning we'd made our way northeast where we finally encountered the ticket counter. We were a bit embarrassed that we hadn't thought of this before, but wrote it off to battle fatigue. Brian tried to charge our tickets on his NBC Visa card, but for some reason his account had been closed, and so I sprung for the airfare. At least they gave me an Auto Club discount.



~ by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved





Kids Need Discipline!


















The school board Tuesday night unanimously approved
the death penalty for dress code violations.





~ by Russ Allison Loar
~ Photo by Paul and Lora Guajardos
© All Rights Reserved





Heh, Heh, Heh





L aura was breathing harder now, her head resting against George’s shoulder as they sat in his pickup truck at the drive-in movie. It was a long movie and she had been up since the crack of dawn. She was asleep.


"Looks like you managed to cut off our only escape route,” Princess Leia tongue-lashed the handsomely handsome Han Solo.

“Maybe you’d like it back in your cell, your highness!” Han rhetoricated mockingly.

“Aaugh!” Laura screamed, awakening to the sound of laser fire pontooning from the small metal speaker box hooked on the passenger side window.

“Laura, what’s wrong?”

“Oh George, I just had the most frightening dream of my life. I dreamed you were president and I was First Lady and a band of bearded evildoers blew up New York City!”

“Heh, heh, heh,” George spontaneously chuckled, draining his fourth Budweiser. “Heh, heh, heh. That’ll be the day.”




~ Story & photo morph by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved





Biden Dorks Out!
















Vice President Joe Biden appears to temporarily lose his mind during President Barack Obama's "jobs" speech to Congress on September 8, 2011.


~ Unaltered photo of freeze-framed TV screen by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved





No Wonder!





So old Chinesey man run away from Lost Angeless mental confinement palace and seek taxi cab steerage.

When after much arm wagging hot dog mustard color car stop, Chinesey man find into back seat and profuse:

“Hurry hurry! Drive to Kowloon! No letter from home residents for twenty year!”

“You must tug my leg sideways,” taxi pilot expunge. “Drive to Kowloon impossibility. Kowloon on other shore side of ocean water expanse!”

“Ah,” Chinesey man breathe when brain light explode, “No wonder they never write!”










~ by Whingy Whang
© All Rights Reserved





Sit!







Q:   What's Lassie's favorite
        kind of chair?

A:    A Barkalounger!






~ by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved





Home On The Range



Home on the range,
On the horse.





~ Words and artwork by Russ Allison Loar
~ Click on image to enlarge
© All Rights Reserved





A Matter Of Taste








What does a garage door . . .




 . . . have in common with
             the Rock Of Gibraltar?






They both taste bad with ketchup!







~ by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved





But Seriously Folks




Thank you ladies gentle worms. Tonight, I’m going to start out with a tribute to all of you. That’s right, a musical tribute to human beings.


{Sleazy lounge singer voice}

♪ Hey there!
Yes you there!
Didja know there,
That you’ve got:
Two legs,
And you’ve got:
Two arms,
And you’ve got:
Two brains,
Inside your head, yeah! ♪


Needs a little work.

But seriously folks, I just want you to know I’m a believer in clean comedy. Yeah. Clean comedy. That’s my thing. Clean comedy.

So, these two bars of soap were walking down the street and they’re having a really heated argument. This one bar of soap is getting furious—out of control. So the other bar of soap says, “Hey! Don’t work yourself up into a lather!”

Oh yeah, it’s clean!


{Rim shot}

I was just talking backstage with legendary comedian Buzzy Vava Voom. He just flew in from a 37-year run at the Golden Nugget in Lost Wages Nevada and boy is his airplane tired!


{Rim shot}

“Buzzy,” I said, “what’s the secret of your success? How do you be funny?”

Buzzy says to me, “Kid, don’t get too personal with your humor. Nobody wants to hear about your personal problems. So if you really hate your wife, don’t do wife jokes because the audience will see that you really mean it and they won’t think you’re funny.”

So, taking Buzzy’s advice about keeping my personal life out of my humor, for those who have seen me perform before, I won’t be doing the bit about the wacky arsonist, the naked bank robber, or the bit about falling in love with grandpa’s cow. Instead, I’m going to do the bit about the guy with the big penis.

There was this guy with a big penis who walks into a bar, sits down on a barstool and orders a beer. The bartender slaps the beer down on the counter and the guy with the big penis hands him a twenty dollar bill. A couple of minutes later the bartender comes back and gives him a five dollar bill in change and says:

“We don’t get many guys in here with big penises.”

The guy with the big penis looks at the five dollar bill, looks at his beer, looks back at the five dollar bill, then looks at the bartender and says:

“How come?”


{Sustained, awkward silence}

“But seriously folks, you know, my wife is such a bitch . . .”



~ by Russ Allison Loar
© All Rights Reserved