Friday, August 17, 2018
The Man Who Didn’t Think To Say Anything
Lie, actually.
Though he claimed to be no Nosy Nora,
Truth is he ALWAYS thought to say something!
But...didn’t.
Friend Cliff-O spat that he could’ve helped others.
He...supposed.
They agreed on an experiment: a week in which he’d speak up, to thus aid his fellow man and woman!
Cliff felt that since he was remarkably ugly, this new altruism would make him pretty.
Quite the opposite, it works out, so go figure!
Labels: empathy, friends, helping, human, minding own business, uncaring cold
Monday, October 02, 2017
Neighborhood Softball League
A few girlfriends straggle in and
sit on the squat bleachers.
No wives yet.
They steer away from the old
sobbing woman.
“I’m dying of Cancer, and nobody
gives a shit!”
First Baseman, Hutsy, gives her
his chocolate milk.
“I need a straw!”
“Nobody needs a straw. Chug it
right down!”
“I’ll try.”
“You need a laugh? Watch me bat.”
Labels: Cancer, caring, empathy, neighborhood, softball
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Responsible
-I told him that Dorine threatened to kill herself?
-What did he say?
-That’s her fuckin lookout!
-I really admire stupid guys.
-How so? They’re stupid!
-They’ve simplified life.
-The only model they can understand.
While...I...worry about Dorine. Can’t sleep!
As he’s out talking his drivel to other
senseless women. And she’s probably
sawing away after tears!
-Surrounded by dolls and teddy bears?
-One would suppose.
-Well, you’re not her Daddy!
-I’m everybody’s!
-Physician heal thyself!
-Burnt-out case.
Labels: empathy, line, responsibility, sex, stupidity, suicide
Sunday, July 06, 2014
Meek Mockum
Bert liked to inform the salesmen personally
of their raises and bonuses. Thus he took
Sammy out to an elaborate champagne
lunch at Mario’s.
“I’m rounding out twenty years, and you’re
the best I’ve ever seen!” he toasted him.
“Meek Mockum!” replied this Ace.
Bert changed the subject to baseball, and things
flowed from there. Sammy having sharp opinions
re the underperforming Yankees.
Anyway...was Bert’s first exposure to Sammy’s
Tourette’s. Pretty much nothing. He wondered
what the clients saw, but who cares if somebody
could sell like that? And, no tics yet.
His cellphone vibrated, and when he glimpsed the screen,
he told Sammy, “Gotta take this. A few seconds.”
Was Honey, as could be discerned by “Honey...
please Honey...Honey! Paris!”
Before he could flip the phone closed, her hissed
conclusion carried: “Take the tickets and stick em
up your ass!”
Bert then spouted “Meek Mockum!” Four times.
Mario’s brother, their waiter, sped over. Then, he repeated
Bert. Sammy repeated him, and Bert, and himself.
At the next table, a woman fell to the floor, foaming it from
the mouth, blurrily, it sounding more like “Moo-oo-hoo!’
Her husband sang "In fair London City,
where girls have big titties...”
When the ambulance came, the attendants, under
the principle of removing the least affected,
piled this singer into the back.
“I blame it on the TV,” Attendant A remarked when underway.
“How about video games?”
“Absolutely!”
“Bicycles?”
“I don’t get that.”
“Nor anything else. Look! Time nailed it: The Empathetic Society.
It’ll kill us!”
Labels: empathy, Executive, salesmanship, Tourette, Yankees
