How You Can Tell When Another Wave of Covid is About to Strike (Read This – It May Save Your Life!)

Like you, I have been watching too much tv lately.  And now that all the dead people have finally mailed in their ballots for “Good ‘ole Joe,” Wolf Blitzer can get back to hyperventilating over Covid-19.  This is important, because after a mere two million hours of coverage, the media is sensing that we, the viewing public, are still clamoring for more.  And, of course, we are…

NOT!

Nevertheless, we continue to watch.  Why?  Because we’re Americans, damn it!  And that’s what we do.  We watch tv!  Not like those godless communists who sit around the kitchen table all night chain-smoking and plotting subversive ways to overthrow our government from within, otherwise known as the … huh, never mind.

If you have been watching all the minute-by-minute updates on Covid-19, you know that there are three ways to identify the beginning of another wave of the virus:

1. The number of people testing positive.

2. The number of people requiring hospitalization,

And, of course, the most accurate warning sign –

3. The number of rolls of toilet paper flying off the shelves. 

Coal miners used to take canaries down into the mines with them as a precaution.  The presence of carbon monoxide would quickly kill the canaries and give the (heartless) miners (AKA “canary murderers”) enough time to get the H, E, double toothpicks out of there.

Well, toilet paper is the canary of 2020.  In fact, I’ve begun a Kickstarter Campaign to raise money for my new toilet paper company, Tweet-Tweet Toilet Paper.  And because of the tremendous devastation this virus has caused so many Americans, a percentage of every roll sold will be donated to help the families of all those canaries who tragically lost their lives.  [For potential investors’ eyes only!  DO Not read further if you are NOT going to be an investor!  — That percentage will be .0000001%.  Who do they think we are, suckers?)

Go to TweetTweetToiletPaper.com to learn more about his exciting opportunity.  And, like the political operatives always say, “Never let a tragedy go to waste!”

A practical word to the wise-

When another coronavirus wave hits, and you find yourself too late to the toilet paper aisle, use the simple technique I use.  I call it the “Redneck Bidet.”  All you need is a backyard hose and a towel.  (And “thank you” ahead of time, for being so sustainable.)

Are You Sure We’re Following the Science? Because It Looks Like We’re Following the Money

If I may speak seriously for a moment, I need to make one thing clear.  I stand on principle, and there is one principle on which I will not compromise.  Here it is:  Even if it only saves one life, implementing every safeguard to prevent the spread of Covid-19 is critical during this pivotal moment in our nation’s history, even if it means we must endure skyrocketing teenage suicide rates and ignoring those so-called “necessary” cancer screenings.  In short, “we must follow the science,” even if it kills us. 

Walmart hasn’t remained open because it’s a multibillion-dollar powerhouse.  It’s simply safer to wait in line at Walmart than other stores.  (And much, much safer than election lines.)

States haven’t allowed liquor stores to remain open because they rake in zillions in tax revenue.  It’s SAFER to wait in line at liquor stores. 

Airlines haven’t continued to pack travelers into airtight tubes for hours on end because of their political clout.  (You wacky conspiracy theorist!)  Study after study has proven that sitting for five hours shoulder to shoulder with smelly strangers is perfectly safe.  Remember, these airlines are “following the science.”  So, feel free to take a flight.  Climb aboard, sit back, take a deep breath and relax. 

None of these activities is, for example, the insanity of visiting a hair salon.  Or something totally bonkers, like attending a funeral.  And don’t get me started about all those maniacs who want to go to church!  These raving lunatics will kill us all!

Anyway, that’s my take on it.  On the other hand, I might just be a better person than you.  In fact, if you don’t feel the same way, maybe it’s time for you to take a good long look in the mirror.  But please, for the sake of all that is true and pure, when you take that look in the mirror, PLEASE remember to follow the science and wear a mask. 

Minimum Wage Nevada Vote Counter Reconsiders Her Career Choice

There are 50 states, but several always loom larger than the others – among them, California, Florida, New York, and Texas.  But the REALLY big one, the one which always comes to mind first when we think of raw election power is, of course, Nevada.  That’s because Nevada has a whopping six electoral college votes.  To put this in perspective, Alaska has three, and no one lives in Alaska.  On the other hand, California has 55 electoral votes.  There are so many electoral college representatives in California that if you stretched them head to toe, they would reach all the way from that great American landmark, the Golden Gate Bridge, to that other great American landmark, the world’s largest ball of twine, in Cawker City, Kansas.  (Google it!)

It’s day three after the election, and Nevada is still trying to tally its votes.  You would think that with all those nimble blackjack dealing fingers, they’d have finished lickety-split.  But no – Snake eyes, 

Nevada election workers are feeling more heat than the cat who crawled onto the engine of the recently parked Chrysler Cordoba. 

Cindy Smallwood, a seasonal election worker in Winnemucca, Nevada, took the minimum wage job at her local elections division to earn money for Christmas.  She is now literally losing her hair and back up to three packs a day. 

“I pictured myself in a quiet room counting votes.  But this morning, my supervisor recommended we start wearing body armor,” said the 36-year-old mother of two.  “I don’t have any body armor.  And frankly, it sounds expensive.  I only make $8.25 an hour.”

Cindy shyly admitted that she didn’t even vote in the election.  “They’re both a couple of clowns if you ask me,” she quipped.  She pulled out her smartphone and clicked on her Facebook page.  Then she scrolled to a meme she posted earlier in the day.  It said: ‘If either one of these nuts gets voted President, I’m moving to Canada!’

Then Cindy put her phone away, crushed her cigarette butt under her heel, and began pushing her way through the crowd of “observers” back toward her station in the counting room.

Murder Hornets Discovered Responsible for Covid-19 Pandemic to Conceal Plan for Worldwide Domination

The mainstream media continues to push the narrative that China was the source of Covid-19.  Think twice before you buy this “fake news.” 

Answer this: What is the last thing you’ve been thinking about since you began wearing a facemask, hiding under you bed, and peeing yourself each time a stranger gets within six feet?  Murder Hornets!  That’s what! 

Call me an unhinged conspiracy theorist, but if you haven’t at least considered that Murder Hornets are behind this entire international calamity, you, my friend, just fell off the turnip truck. 

Here is a sample of the subtle headlines plastered across America that you are NOT noticing because Covid-19 stories are clogging up ALL the media space:

“Terrifying ‘murder hornets’ invade US” – UPI.

“Study: Giant murder hornets could invade entire region if left unchecked” – KOMO News.

“‘Murder Hornets’ invading U.S. will soon enter their ‘slaughter phase’” – Patriot News.

They are entering their “Slaughter Phase,” people!  Wake up!

Go ahead, Google it.  These are REAL headlines. 

And answer me another question: Why, on God’s green earth, has there not been a single question about the Murder Hornet invasion during ANY of the presidential debates? 

Donald Trump’s wall will NOT stop the Murder Hornets!  Joe Biden’s packing the Supreme Court will NOT stop the Murder Hornets!  No matter how loud Donald Trump yells or how many times Joe Biden answers a question with, “Come on, Man,” none of this is going to prevent the Murder Hornets from “stealing our democracy.”  Oh, and a little something called, “Killing us in our sleep!”

How can we address the challenge of confronting the complex, multifaceted problem of holding a presidential election with all the noise and distraction it creates, when we should be laser focused on Murder Hornets?  Well, complex problems call for complex solutions.  And by “complex solutions,” I mean flipping a coin.  Everybody says it’s going to be a close election anyway.  Why not get it over with?  We’ll have Dr. Fauci flip the coin.  Everybody loves wacky Dr. Fauci, even if he can’t make up his mind whether “the research supports” putting our underwear on our heads and walking backwards in public.  (The loser of the coin flip can be ambassador of Costa Rica.  I hear it’s beautiful down there.)

Once we’ve flipped the coin and become either a fascist or socialist nation, then we can focus of keeping the Murder Hornets from tracking down and eating our children.  We can even ask China to help.  I hear they have a laboratory in Wuhan that could use a little good PR right now. 

Oregon: All the Insanity of Florida, But Conveniently Located on the West Coast!

Oregon has a rich reputation for rain, recreation and rioting.  However, as a native Oregonian, I have never felt my state has been given credit for another richly deserved quality.  I am speaking, of course, about insanity. 

Let’s begin with its traffic laws.  Consider these two Oregon traffic laws currently being enforced  ̶ 

1. Oregon requires that a driver use his turn signal for a minimum of 100 feet before changing lanes.  If a driver makes a right turn and then needs to make a left turn 50 feet down the road – and uses his left turn signal THE ENTIRE 50 FEET – a police officer can lawful stop the driver for a violation of the turn signal law.  Yes, you read that correctly – Impossibility and the Newton’s Law of “God-given Common Sense,” are not a defense to Oregon’s 100-foot turn signal requirement.  Welcome to Oregon!

Now, add this –

2. Oregon traffic law considers moving from a parked position on the street into the lane of travel to be “changing lanes.”  Thus, getting into your parked car, and then pulling into the lane of travel requires you use a turn signal.

Here’s my point –

The logical implication of the above two laws is that every time an Oregon driver gets into his car, turns on his turn signal, and then pulls into the lane of travel – because he has not used his turn signal for 100 feet – HE IS VIOLATING OREGON’S TRAFFIC LAW!

Given the insanity of these Oregon laws, this next ditty may not come as any shocking surprise.  Oregon ALSO requires the use of a turn signal even if turning in that direction is the driver’s ONLY option.

You may be thinking, “Jack, I’m sure the police in Oregon would never stop a driver for failing to use a turn signal when he is turning in the only possible direction.”  And you would be wrong.  A bored officer at 2 a.m. on a Saturday morning is more than happy to enforce this FLAGRANT violation. 

Oregon appellate courts have interpreted our traffic laws EXACTLY as I explained above, with the exception of the “pulling into traffic” example, which, as I have explained, is a logical extrapolation of the other two laws. 

By now, you’re probably thinking, ‘Okay, but every state has it’s idiosyncrasies.’  This is true, however, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I submit Exhibits 1, 2 and 3:

1. Do other states blow up whales?  We did. Blubber flying through the sky landing on cars and spectators as far as the eye could see.  Google it. 

2. Did they name their major city using the flip of a coin?  Oregon did.  Portland had a 50/50 chance of being named Boston.  (Can Oregon come up with ANY original name?  It’s a miracle our state isn’t named West Massachusetts.)

And finally, I present –

Exhibit 3: Oregon didn’t have ANY laws against possessing, manufacturing or using dynamite until 1970.  Prior to that, it was “bombs away!” 

So, visit Oregon soon.  Just be sure to obey our laws, and by “obey our laws,” I mean never, under any circumstances, should you EVER pull your car into traffic.

The Last Undecided Voter in America Still Undecided on Whether to Watch the Debate

Bob Grossmeyer sat at his kitchen table in Akron, Ohio, last Tuesday morning discussing the presidential election with Senior Political Reporter for Jocularious.com, Mary Sandoval.  Grossmeyer, the last undecided voter in America, explained his dilemma over whether to watch the debate that night.

“Look,” he said to Sandoval, slowly and carefully choosing his words, “It’s a difficult decision.  Sure, watching the debate might help me decide.  But (he paused for effect), there are also several other entertaining programs on television tonight.  Then, of course, there’s the option of NOT watching television.  I could listen to music, or I could take a walk.  I could listen to music AND take a walk. I’m sure you understand my point.”

Sandoval sat pondering the balding, middle-aged man sipping on his decaf.  She left his home shortly thereafter shaking her head and praying she’d never have to spend another moment with the man.

Sandoval’s editor did not hear her prayer. He told her to follow up the next day. So, she phoned Grossmeyer to find out what he’d finally decided.

“I watched it.  I watched almost all of it.  Just as I was tying my shoe laces to go take a walk, I changed my mind and turned on the television.  I missed the first ten minutes.  Trump’s face was already red from screaming, and Biden was already repeating the phrase, ‘Come on, man!’ like a verbal Gatling gun.”

Sandoval asked Grossmeyer what he considered the most memorable moments.

“Number one has to be when Trump started making fun of Biden for wearing a mask the size of Nebraska everywhere he goes.  I laughed my a** off.  Hilarious.  I may not know who I’m voting for yet, but I’ll tell you one thing.  Love him or hate him, Trump’s fearless attitude toward the coronavirus is going to serve him well between now and the election.  Mark my words.”

“Number two has to be Biden’s snappy comeback when Trump pointed out that the wife of Moscow’s mayor gave Biden’s son, Hunter, 3 ½ million dollars.  Biden didn’t hesitate for a nanosecond. He fired right back: ‘Come on, man!  That’s been totally debunked!’  Point, set, match, Joe Biden.  Talk about putting an issue to rest.  He had probably been practicing that zinger in the basement all week.”

Sandoval ask Grossmeyer if the debate helped him move any closer to a decision.

“Not an inch.”

Grossmeyer hung up the phone and walked to the refrigerator.  He opened the door and stood staring intently at its contents.  He stood there motionless for ten minutes. What in the world to make for dinner?  If only, he could decide.

Oliver the Cat Officially Changes His Name to “The Gladiator”

When we think of combat sports, we think of MMA fighting and boxing.  The image of a cat fighting a roll of paper towels inside a bathtub isn’t often the first thing to come to mind. 

I had never seen or heard of such a thing myself until I was leaning over to start shaving recently.  All of a sudden, all hell broke loose behind me.  For a moment, I thought I was going to be the victim of a brutal home invasion.  Instead, I turned to see Oliver the Cat locked in an epic battle with a roll of paper towels inside our bathtub.  I have no idea why a roll of paper towels was in our bathroom, and I am unaware of any previous animosity between Oliver and any of our household paper products.  Nevertheless, they were going at it.  Flipping and twisting with Oliver inflicting savage bite after savage bite.  Intense “killer” bites!  The roll of paper towels was holding its own, but it had the unfortunate disadvantage of lacking teeth, claws, or any gripping appendages.  However, that roll could sure bounce back from a bite.  Throughout the battle, the roll displayed impressive fortitude in the face of Oliver’s savage onslaught. 

Alas, Oliver the Cat ultimately prevailed over his household commodity nemesis.  And in the aftermath, he lay in the glow of his victory next to the body of his grizzled opponent. 

I can’t help but be proud of Oliver’s ingenuity.  He’s invented an entertaining blood sport MINUS the blood, AND one that is unlikely to draw throngs of PETA activists protesting in the streets wearing cat costumes. 

Before COVID, I’m not sure how much money I’d pay to see a cat fight a roll of paper towels.  However, with so many sports still in hiatus, and ESPN relegated to broadcasting reruns of 1980’s professional bowling league quarterfinals, Oliver has a shot at the big time.  Don’t be surprised if the next time you tune into Fox Sports or ESPN 1, 2, 3 … ad infinitum, you see Oliver the Cat mixing it up with a roll of Bounty inside what appears to be a suburban bathtub.  (Insider tip: Put your money on the cat.)

Attention Shoppers: Prior to Driving Away, Please Remove Your Grocery Bag From the Roof of Your Car

No, I didn’t make it all the way home with my grocery bag on top of my car, but I darn well gave it my best!  I am many things, but I AM NOT A QUITTER! When I got home, I put the bag back on top to memorialize my stupidity for posterity, and, of course, for you, my loyal readers.

It’s not every day that you are driving along, and people begin pointing and shouting at you.  That said, I do live in Oregon, and if you’ve been watching footage of the riots, for a brief moment, I thought they might be singling me out because I can’t afford to pay for everyone’s college tuition.  Call me old fashioned, but the decision to get a degree in Philosophy of Interpretive Dance is on you (and your parents). 

Now back to everyone yelling at me –

Another driver finally rolled down her window and yelled to me that I had left a bag on the roof of my car.  Thankfully, I retrieved it, and what little was left of my dignity, before I had powered up to highway speeds.

I am blaming either President Trump or China for this.  Whoever is ultimately found responsible for the Covid-19 chaos here in the U.S.  As a result of [insert Trump or China], after I go shopping, and before I get into my car, I reach in for the hand sanitizer and clean my hands before I climb in.  Yes, I know this is a little neurotic for someone who routinely extends the five second rule for food that falls on the ground to a more reasonable ten seconds.  However, apparently, if I don’t do this, every grandmother in the Western Continental United States will expire before midnight.  And, as someone raised Catholic, I’ve already got enough guilt to deal with.

I don’t want to complicate things, but it’s possible that some of the blame also falls on Ruth Bader Ginsburg, or the “Notorious RBG,” as she is referred to in certain circles.  How could she carry some of the blame, you ask?  She died!  And now my brain is scrambled from the tsunami sized waves of hypocrisy emanated from Washington D.C.  The Republicans and Democrats have LITERALLY switched their positions 180 degrees from 2016 on whether the Senate should confirm a Supreme Court nominee in an election year.  If you hooked any of them up to a polygraph machine, the machine wouldn’t just start to smoke – It would EXPLODE!

So, there you have it.  Yes, I did drive away with my grocery bag on top of my car, but it was not my fault. It was the fault of [insert – Trump, China, or THE NOTORIOUS RBG], depending on who you feel should pay for your neighbor’s tuition.

The World’s Worst Chess Player Reveals His Secrets to Success

Those of you old enough to remember the 1988 winter Olympics may recall a ski jumper nicknamed, “Eddie the Eagle.”  Eddie was a British plasterer (yes, this is both a word and a profession) turned ski jumper who was so bad they made a movie about him.  Eddie ski jumped with as much grace and precision as a braised ham.  So, it is with little pleasure that I confess to you that I am the Eddie the Eagle of chess.  I’m not just bad, I stink.  If I played chess with a skunk, he would announce midgame, and with no sense of irony, that I stunk.  If chess gave out a Razzy award for the worst player each year, I’d have so many they’d be spilling off my mantel.

In my desperation to improve, I even decided to read a book titled, “Chess for Fun & Chess for Blood.”  (Yeah, I know, the title’s mildly aggressive.)  My analysis in selecting the perfect book was this.  First, I considered my current level of chess skill.  Second, I wrote down a list of weaknesses I wanted to improve.  And finally, and perhaps most critically, the book had to be free.  I found it in the middle of a stack of dusty books in my mom’s bathroom.  Lord only knows how it got there.  Historically, we have always been more of a Go Fish family.

Here’s the book:

I made it through the first two pages, but here is the problem with reading a book on chess.  The only thing more boring than reading a book on chess is falling into an irreversible coma. 

My trouble with chess is that I have three primary problems:

1. Concentration.  Who can keep up with all those pieces?  Every two seconds, a knight comes flying out of nowhere and kills my bishop.

2. Strategy.  I constantly have to remind myself that the goal is to capture my adversary’s king, not seek revenge against my opponent’s bishop because it just killed my knight. 

3. Learning from my past mistakes.  My brain lacks a chess hard drive.  As a result, I’m like Rain Man, but in a bad way.

My niece has six kids (no, I’m serious).  But if anyone should have six kids, it’s her and her husband because they are AMAZING parents raising AMAZING kids.  The problem is that these kids are chess players.  You’ve probably guessed my problem – I can’t visit her.  Any of her kids, and I mean any of them, right down to the one she gave birth to three weeks ago, can kick my a** in chess.  Can you even imagine the humiliation of losing to someone whose neck muscles can’t yet fully support the weight of her head?

I’m seriously considering giving up the game altogether.  How then would I spend my free time you ask?  The answer’s obvious:

Ski jumping.

Survivor Diet

Welcome to the Covid-15 Club!

Thank you for fulfilling your patriotic duty of gaining 15 pounds during the Covid-19 lockdown.  On behalf of the United States of America, we honor your service… and your appetite.  You are now an official member of the Covid-15 Club.  Carry those extra pounds with pride.  You’ve earned it.  Unfortunately, your knee joints are members of the Communist Party, and are now demanding you return those hard-earned pounds. 

What to do?

Introducing… The CBS Television “Survivor Diet Program.”  The benefits of this amazing weight-loss program are many –

1. It’s free.  (Disclaimer:  Free, if you watched Survivor using an antenna, circa 1955.)

2. The results are shocking.  (“Boston Rob” lost 34 pounds in less than 40 days.  Of course, he gained it all back by the show’s finale in Studio City.  Sorry, Amber.)

3. It’s simple to implement.  You feast on an entire one-half cup of rice each day, along with any snails you find crawling around outside your house, and, of course, all the coconuts you can harvest from your yard.

Remarkably, this diet is even more effective than the Costco Diet program I wrote about last year.  That diet, of course, is no longer available because Costco, like so many heartless, multinational conglomerates, has used the coronavirus pandemic to shave a few measly dollars off its bottom line by eliminating all those mouthwatering (and FREE) samples.  A visit to Costco has gone from a tasty stroll in the park, to a march through the barren desert.

If any of you cynics think that the Survivor Diet is just a blatant lie that I’ve concocted, you would be correct.  However, journalist extraordinaire Brynne Chandler wrote an article (this is true – Google it) titled, “How to Do the ‘Survivor’ Diet,” that was posted on the Livestrong website.  In it, she writes:

“Since May 2000, U.S. television audiences have been captivated by the physical challenges and social maneuvering of the reality series ‘Survivor.’ One of the most brutal aspects of the game is the lack of food. The ‘Survivor’ diet typically consists of whatever the contestants can find, pick or catch, which often isn’t much. Like most extreme fad diets, a long-term low-calorie diet can be dangerous to your health. With a little ingenuity, you can create your own, healthier version of the ‘Survivor’ diet.”

I’m pretty sure that “healthier version” is code for, “you ain’t losing 34 pounds in 40 days.” 

As for me, I only have one goal.  I’m trying not to win the first ever Covid-15 Club’s Lifetime Achievement Award.

Although, now that I think about it, I do have the perfect place for it on my mantel.