The Daily Parker

Politics, Weather, Photography, and the Dog

The glass eye

A man who lived in a block of apartments thought it was raining and put his head out the window to check. As he did so a glass eye fell into his hand.

He looked up to see where it came from in time to see a young woman looking down.

"Is this yours?" he asked.

She said, "Yes, could you bring it up?" and the man agreed.

On arrival she was profuse in her thanks and offered the man a drink. As she was very attractive, he agreed. Shortly afterwards, she said, "I'm about to have dinner. There's plenty; would you like to join me?"

He readily accepted her offer and both enjoyed a lovely meal. As the evening was drawing to a close the lady said, "I've had a marvelous evening. Would you like to stay the night?"

The man hesitated then said, "Do you act like this with every man you meet?"

"No," she replied, "Only those who catch my eye."

Ode to the Little Birdie

I thought of this lovely poem around 5:30 this morning.

I woke early one morning,
The earth lay cool and still
When suddenly a tiny bird
Perched on my window sill,

He sang a song so lovely
So carefree and so gay,
That slowly all my troubles
Began to slip away.

He sang of far off places
Of laughter and of fun,
It seemed his very trilling,
brought up the morning sun.

I stirred beneath the covers
Crept slowly out of bed,
Then gently shut the window
And crushed his fucking head.

At the Western Wall

A journalist assigned to the Jerusalem bureau takes an apartment overlooking the Wailing Wall. Every day when she looks out, she sees an old Jewish man praying vigorously. So the journalist goes down and introduces herself to the old man.

She asks: "You come every day to the wall. How long have you done that and what are you praying for?"

The old man replies, "I have come here to pray every day for 25 years. In the morning I pray for world peace and then for the brotherhood of man. I go home have a cup of tea and I come back and pray for the eradication of illness and disease from the earth."

The journalist is amazed. "How does it make you feel to come here every day for 25 years and pray for these things?" she asks.

The old man looks at her sadly. "Like I'm talking to a wall."

Give us a push

My cousin sent this one to me ages ago:

This bloke's in bed with his missus when there's a rat-a-tat-tat on the door.

He rolls over and looks at his clock, and it's half three in the morning. Sod that for a game of soldiers, he thinks, and rolls over.

Then, a louder knock follows. "Aren't you going to answer that?" says his wife so he drags himself out of bed, and goes downstairs. He opens the door and this bloke is stood outside.

"Eh mate" says the stranger, "Can you give us a push?"

"No, piss off, it's half three. I was in bed," says the man and shuts the door.

He goes back up to bed and tells his wife what happened and she says "Dave, you are a bastard. Remember that night we broke down in the pouring rain on the way to pick the kids up from the babysitter and you had to knock on that man's house to get us started again? What would have happened if he'd told us to piss off?"

So he gets out of bed again, gets dressed, and goes downstairs. He opens the door, and not being able to see the stranger anywhere he shouts: "Eh mate, do you still want a push??" and he hears a voice cry out "Yeah please mate."

So, still being unable to see the stranger he shouts: "Where are you?" and he replies: "I'm over here on the swings."

Old Man Moskowitz

One of my favorites:

Old man Moskowitz was getting along in years. He decided to retire and let his 3 sons run the company (which manufactured a wide variety of nails). The sons thought they could increase market-share with some judicious billboard advertising.

Only a week later the old man was taking his usual Sunday drive in the country when he saw the first billboard ad. There it was—a picture of Jesus on the Cross, with the caption: "Nails for Every Purpose. Use Moskowitz Nails."

The old man immediately met with his three sons to voice his concern. He explained that the backlash could be horrendous. The company could be ruined. The sons agreed to discontinue that ad.

A week later the old man was again taking his usual Sunday drive when he saw the second billboard ad. There it was—a picture of the same cross, empty, with Jesus crumpled on the ground below...and the caption: "Next Time Use Moskowitz Nails."

New Joke category

My old personal site, www.braverman.org, has seen better days. It's creaky, it hasn't been maintained, and I think this blog has mostly supplanted it.

It does, however, have a library of hundreds of jokes, all dying to be read again. So starting today, I'm adding a new category: Jokes. (No, I'm not changing the name to the "Waspj Blog.")

Here's the first one, from an anonymous fan:

Eulogy for a Dog

Morris in Brooklyn lived in a big home with his pet dog that he loved for 12 years. His best and only companion. The dog died, and a heartbroken Morris went to the Rabbi of his congregation and asked, "Rebbe, my dog is dead. Could you please offer a prayer for this faithful creature?"

The Rabbi replied, "No, we cannot hold services for an animal in our synagogue, but nearby there is a new temple that opened, no telling what they believe, maybe they can hold services for an animal."

Morris said, "So I'll go see them now. Do you think $10,000 is enough to donate for the service?"

The Rebbe replied, "So why didn't you tell me the dog was Orthodox?"

Lead Me Not

Waiting at a restaurant bar
To meet my wife for dinner
And this woman walks in
Can’t help staring at her
I mean, this girl is hot
Rounded and tight, wicked curves
When she turns, I hold my breath
My god, she has incredible curves
She’s a little short, but whatever
A body like that, who cares about height?
She’d be tall enough in my bed
On her back or on all fours
It’s all good, all she’s got
Hair pulled back in a ponytail
Skin-tight T-shirt, cut low and high
Bright orange short shorts, and tight
Ah, yes, she wears French cut…
And across her ass, the word “midfielder”
I get to see that several times
Don’t know what it means, don’t care
And I’m thinking, just go away
I don’t need this right now
You’re too hot and I’m too tempted
Just keep walking and I’ll be okay
But look at that ass, those tits, those lips
She’s built to play and I’m feeling frisky
Imagination and temptation rising
Just look at that body
Just think what I could do with that
No baggage, no waiting, just raw
She’s so ripe and I’m so ready
No, no, stop that – I’m married
And I’m waiting here for my wife
Keep it cool, this is not a problem

So then she sits down next to me
Oh great, like I needed this
Too distracting, too tempting, too much
Maybe if I don’t look, it’ll be easier
Like maybe I’ll forget she’s there
Yeah, right
Eyes on my drink, aren’t ice cubes fascinating?
I could just stare at ’em for hours…
Why is she looking at me?
Uh-oh, she’s going to talk; not good
Hi.
Uh, hello, how are you?
Now why the hell did I ask that? Too late…
I’m good, she says, and I believe her
Stop that, this is just small talk
I’m not a teenager, no pickup lines here
Just two strangers talking in a bar
Passing the time in anonymous social…
I’m Alicia, she says with a smile
Uh-oh…
I’m Brad, I lie; can she tell?
Hi, Brad. Guess not
Maybe she doesn’t care
Maybe she doesn’t know any better
I mean, she looks pretty young
Late teens, early 20s
How much experience could she possibly have?
Does she even think to look for a ring?
Would she care if she saw one?
Hi, Alicia. You waiting for someone, too?
Yeah. I guess I should call her, huh?
Yeah, probably.
And then she laughs, and touches me
I heard this great joke today…
She tells me and it’s funny
She’s still touching me
Why don’t I pull away?
Then I hear myself saying,
Hey, that reminds me of a joke…
She laughs when I tell it
Head back, eyes bright, mouth wide open
She really liked my joke, no faking

So now we’re trading jokes
Laughter comes easily, and more touching
I hardly notice now – but I do notice
I don’t stop her, I don’t mention I’m married
Maybe this is just harmless fun
My wife could show up any moment now
Oops, gotta run, thanks for the laughs
But not yet, and I’m sweating now
She keeps touching me, subtle but repeated
She’s so sexy and I’m so tempted
Why can’t she just go away?
The jokes and stories are quite raunchy now
We’re deep in hard-core thoughts
I need to resist, I need to walk away
I can’t, I just can’t
I’m so ashamed
Might as well get something for my pain, then…

She leans forward, another private dirty joke
What a view she gives me
(Hey Alicia…nice rack!)
I mean, look at those tits
Look at them – big, round, firm, delicious
She knows I’m looking
She wants me to look
She’s got me hooked, we both know it
The question is, what will I do?
First, I laugh at her joke
It’s really funny and really nasty
Yeah, she knows what she’s doing
Then I look at her, just look
My eyes say what my lips can’t
She looks away, suddenly overwhelmed
The rules of the game have changed
But have they really?
She pulls out her cell phone:
Maybe I’d better call my friend.
Her eyes are dancing with mine
Her lips are telling lies
Her body is being honest
My reaction is a reflex, no thought
No, Alicia, and I take her hand
I’ve got a much better idea.
She smiles
That sounds like a great idea, Brad.
And then we’re both gone…

©2003 Sean Pearson

If I Awake, It Will Be Very Slowly

The Buddha did not drive his car at 7:45am
He never faced the corporate hierarchy
No student loans weighed on his shoulders
He walked away from his marriage
The Buddha had the freedom to choose, to explore
He taught us to accept the inevitability of change
He told us that letting go = serenity
And this path lies between asceticism and opulence

Well, I try to walk the Middle Way
I try to accept that change happens
But I slip a little in rush hour traffic
A little more working in my cubicle
A little more in the grocery store at 5:30pm
A little more in conversation at the dinner table
It adds up, little by little, to a lot of dissatisfaction
So much frustration and disappointment

And I get to try again tomorrow?

©2003 Sean Pearson

Submitted by reader S.P.

Joke: Tom Jones

—Doctor, Doctor, I can't stop singing "The Green Grass of Home."

—That sounds like Tom Jones Syndrome.

—Is it Common?

—It's not unusual!

Submitted by reader M.G.