• After 15+ years, we've made a big change: Android Forums is now Early Bird Club. Learn more here.

The Punny Side of Life

what-happens-next.jpg
 
In the mid-sixties, there was a hippy named Benny in San Francisco.
Benny was real hip, but he just couldn't grow a beard like the rest of
the flower child guys in Haight-Ashbury (Hashbury).
One day Benny met up with a Gypsy Lady who liked him enough to grant him
a wish, so, naturally, Benny wished for a beard. Gypsy Lady granted the
wish but warned Benny to ALWAYS wear the beard, never cut it off.
Well, the years went by, the flower children aged, the hippy movement
sorta died out, Benny went on to a career as a successful financial
adviser. Benny decided the beard no longer fit his image so, ignoring
the Gypsy Lady's warnings, he shaved it off. **POOF** Benny
disintegrated into a pile of ashes, the janitor swept him up and
deposited him in a jar.

Moral of the story: A Benny shaved is a Benny urned.


Don't roll your eyes like that. One day they will stay that way
 
Though not exactly a healthy glow...


View attachment 131998

This is even more amusing/sad because I just recently read The Radium Girls, a book about the women who painted luminous dials on watch and instrument faces from the beginning of last century. Some of these women did glow in the dark, like (barely) living x-rays, because radium goes straight to the bones.
 
LIFE IN THE SLAW LANE

It was Cucumber the First; Summer was over.
I had just spinached a long day and I was busheled.
I'm the kinda guy that works hard for his celery,
And I don't mind tellin' you I was feeling a bit wilted.

But I didn't carrot all, 'cuz otherwise things were vine.
I try never to despairagus, and I don't sweat the truffles.
I'm outstanding in my field, and I know that something good will turnip,
eventually.


A bunch of things were going grape, and soon I'd be top banana.
At least that's my peeling.
But that's enough corn; lend me your ear,
And lettuce continue.

After dressing, I stalked over to the grain station.
I got there just in lime to catch the nine-e-lemon
As it plowed towards the core of Appleton,
A lentil more than a melon-and-a-half yeast of Cloveland.

CHORUS:

Life in the Slaw Lane...
They say plants can feel no pain.
Life in the Slaw Lane...
I've got news for you,
They're just as frail as you.

No one got off at Zucchini so we continued on our route-a-baga.
Passing my usual stop, I got off a'Cado.
I hailed a passing yellow Cabbage
And told the driver to cart me off to Broccolin.
I was going to meet my brother across from the eggplant,
Where he had a job at the Saffron station, pumpkin gas.

As soon as I saw his face I knew he was in a yam.
He told me his wife had been raisin cain.
Her name was Peaches, a soiled but radishing beauty with huge gourds.
My brother'd always been a chestnut,
But I could never figure out why she picked him.
He was a skinny little stringbean
Who'd always suffered from Cerebral Parsley; it was in our roots.
Sure, we had tried to weed it out, but the problem still romained.
He was used to having a tough row to hoe,
But it irrigated me to see Artie choke.
And it bothered my brother to see his marriage go to seed.

(CHORUS)

Like most mapled couples they had a lot of growing to do.
Sure, they'd sown their wild oats - but just barley, if you peas.
Finally Peaches had given him an ul-tomato.
She said, "I'm hip to your chive, and if you don't smoking that herb,
I'm gonna leaf ya, for Basil, ya fruit!"

He said he didn't realize it had kumquat so far.
Onion other hand, even though Peaches could be the pits,
I knew she'd never call the fuzz.

(CHORUS)

So I said, "Hay... we're not farm from the Mush Room -- let's walk over."
He said, "that's a very rice place.
That's the same little bar where alfalfa my wife."
When we got thre I pulled up a cherry and tried to produce smalltalk.
I told him I hadn't seen Olive,
Not since I'd shelled off for a trip to Macadamia,
When I told her we can't-elope, the time just wasn't ripe.
She knew what I mint.

When we left the Mush Room we were pretty well juiced.
I told Artie to say hello to the boysenberry,
And that I'd orange to see him another time.

Well, it all came out in the morning peppers.
Artie caught Peaches that night with Basil,
And Artie beat Basil bad, leavin' him with two beautiful acres.

Peaches? She was found in the garden.
She'd been...
Pruned.

(CHORUS)

Well, my little story is okra now.
Maybe it's small potatoes; me, Idaho.
My name? Wheat. My friends call me Kernel.
And that's life, in the slaw lane.
Thank you, so mulch.

(It's a garden out there!)
 
I'm not getting it yet because I have a low IQ, but my IQ level should grow in a year, right, so I'll come back to it then. :(

(the previous image - before I was Ninja'd)
 
Last edited by a moderator:
Back
Top Bottom