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Showing posts from November, 2013

Can't. . . Breathe. . . Need. . . Air

Neckties are a funny thing.

People love them or hate them. They wear them proudly, as a badge of success. Or they struggle under the weight, like the chains worn by Jacob Marley, Scrooge's dead business partner.

First introduced as the cravat by King Louis XIV of France, ties made their way to England, and on to America. They were originally worn by wealthy gentlemen, but were soon worn by any man who wanted to appear well-dressed.

Neckties are said to symbolize power, success, wealth. They are also said to symbolize oppression and strangulation of middle management. They're even said to be a phallic symbol, which is why I never wore a tie tack.

Now they're the cause of a sex discrimination complaint filed by a British government employee.

Ian Jarman, who works for the Department for Work and Pensions in Birmingham, England, is filing an official complaint against his employer for sex discrimination, because they're forcing him to wear a tie at the office.

Jarman has g…

Mistaken Identity Leads to Wrong Haircut

Last week, someone stole my haircut, and left me theirs.

No, seriously. A case of mistaken identity led to me getting a buzz cut like I haven't seen since I was seven and my mom gave me a summer crewcut.

I went to my local men's hair care place. I won't name it, but will say they often show televised SPORTS while a stylist CLIPS your hair. They also store your name on the computer, along with the kind of haircut you usually get. Sort of like haircut records.

There were several other men waiting for their turn, so I signed in and sat down. Ten minutes later, a stylist — I'll call her Betty — walks out and calls "Erik?"

A guy next to me says, "Yes, that's me." He stands up and walks back with Betty.

Betty, I found out later, asked the guy, "Is your last name Deckers?"

"Yes," he said.

I should have been suspicious from the very beginning. It turned out this man wasn't named Erik at all. He was a fake.

His name was actually Er…

Evil Henchmen To Strike, Issue Demands

Dear Dr. Sinestro:

Due to the unwillingness of management to meet our reasonable demands, or to engage in rational, non-violent discussion that does not involve lasers, the minions of the Sinestro company have no choice but to organize a strike which will begin at exactly 12:00 midnight, Monday, December 2, 2013, and continue until we can reach a reasonable agreement on several core issues.

The strike is being organized by, and will have the full support of, the Amalgamated Union of Minions, Lackeys, and Henchmen, Local 287. We have also been offered assistance by the International Federation of Gun Molls, the Alliance of Sidekicks and Junior Partners, and the Brotherhood of Locomotive Engineers. Our minions have received strike kits, and we will receive strike pay to replace our already-meager salaries — one of our core issues.

We have also taken the regretful, but very necessary step of filing charges of unfair labor practices with the California Labor Board. While our original fili…

Stupid Spy Versus Stupid Spy

Have you ever been making out with someone, stolen a quick glance to see what they're doing, only to realize they're also stealing a quick glance?

Of course you haven't! Who does that?

I'm, uh, only asking for a friend. His name is, uh, Johnny Macintosh.

Back in the 1980s, comedian Rich Hall wrote several books called Sniglets, and he called this situation "glantics."

You couldn't really point out that you knew the other person was looking, or that you knew that they knew that you knew, because it would completely ruin the moment.

Or so I've been told.

At the same time, you couldn't just let the look go unspoken, because you were thinking about it, wondering what the other person was thinking. And he or she was wondering what you were thinking. It would get in your head and that's all you can think about, which is saying something, considering what you were doing at the moment.

I was reminded of glantics when I heard the latest story about how…

Tater Tillers In a Tizzy Over Term

Erik caught a cold from his family this week, and is lying in his deathbed, pointing an accusing finger at all of them. As we await his return next week, we're reprinting this column from 2005.

In this age of Political Correctness and perpetual victimhood, someone somewhere is always complaining about certain words or phrases.

"I don't know if I feel comfortable with that term," is the battle cry of the PC whiner.

Then they express concern over the word "battle cry," because of its violent overtones.

And then wonder why they were picked on by playground bullies.

The latest PC whiners are complaining about couch potatoes.

British potato farmers are concerned that the term "couch potato" is doing irreparable harm to their tubby tuber. They're afraid the image of a slovenly fat guy slumped on his sofa, watching Baywatch reruns will have a negative impact on the image of a potato as a healthy food item. So they're demanding the Oxford English …