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Inflatable Jesus

Inflatable Jesus

As Easter is upon us, I was thinking it might be a good time for people to stop arguing. I’m tired of looking at these debates online between people over things like gun control and politics. You’re never going to change the other person’s mind, so why do you try?

This weekend, Christian religions celebrate the death and resurrection of Jesus. Wouldn’t this be a good time to turn the other cheek, the way he did?

I wanted to get the message across. Maybe get people to reflect on what this holiday is truly about. As I drove around my neighborhood looking at the painted bunnies in the yards and plastic eggs dangling from the trees, I wondered what the hell these things had to do with Easter. Then it dawned on me. I realized what I had to do. I drove over to Home Depot.

They had big inflatable bunnies and a giant blow up egg, but that wasn’t what I was looking for. I found a guy that was working in that department.

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Why Ham?

Why Ham?

 

You may have seen my Easter video where I try to solve the mystery of what Chocolate Rabbits have to do with the death and resurrection of Jesus. Here’s another question you’ve probably never asked yourself? What’s up with Easter Ham?

I know, its tradition…but why? Did Jesus rise from the dead and walk in on the Apostles as they were feasting on Ham?

“Jesus, you’re alive! Praise the Lord!”

“Wait, you thought I was dead, so you figured you’d stuff yourselves with Ham?”

“But Jesus, it was on sale for Easter.”

“What’s Easter?”

“Oh man, this is getting awkward.”

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Refrigerdating?

Refrigerdating?

 

Valentine’s Day is coming up. I view it as another made up holiday where we are forced to buy people things. Another day to aggravate me. So, why do a lot of single people feel extra lonely around this time? Count the money in your wallet and cheer up!

My wife and I have been together for as long as I can remember. One of the advantages of getting older is you don’t remember like you used to.

It’s not the perfect marriage but we make it work. Mainly because we both realize nobody else could put up with either one of us. I can’t even imagine what it’s like to be single…OK, I imagine it all the time. We all need dreams to keep us going.

It’s a whole new world now. We didn’t have dating apps, we had to rely on bars to find our perfect match. You drank enough to get up the courage to ask a girl for her phone number. If she gave you an actual number, you sweated it out on the way to pick her up for your first date.

Does she look as good as she did when I was drinking? If not it was,

“The movie I want to see is playing in another state.”

Ok, so women said that to me…Shut Up!

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Who Cares

Who Cares?

 

It’s supposed to be a bonus holiday. Even if you’re teams not in it, you have an excuse to drink and stuff your face with chicken wings, pizza and nachos. A much needed day to break up the brutal months of January and February.

Not this year though. I have no interest in this game. I’m tired of watching New England every year. Of course their obnoxious fans aren’t tired of this. When you can make Philadelphia fans seem like decent human beings, you’re despicable.

Maybe you’ll be watching the game to root against the Patriots, like we do most years. This year you’ll be cheering on the Los Angeles Rams, which is more than they’ll be doing in L.A.

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That’s Why She’s Manager

That’s Why She’s Manager

 

It was a few days before Christmas…yeah, I know that was like a month ago, but this is still aggravating me. My wife had sent me on a special mission. She had received a Starbucks gift card as a Christmas gift and asked me to pick up a bag of the Christmas blend.

That seems simple enough. I don’t go into Starbucks unless it’s the only place to get coffee but, we had the gift card. All I had to do was go into Starbucks, grab a bag of the coffee she wanted and take it to the register to pay.

As I studied the racks of coffee I saw Sumatra, Veranda, House, Pikes Peak , French Roast, Peakless Pike …I think that’s decaf, everything but Christmas blend. Maybe they were sold out. Then I spotted a bag next to the register. They must keep them behind the counter.

There was only one person in line. After they got their order, I walked up to the counter, grabbed the bag and told the coffee girl…Oh, I’m sorry, the barista…I wouldn’t want to be politically incorrect and upset some idiot.

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