Copyright The Quipping Queen 2005.

A SHORTAGE OF PUCKS N’ PRANKS…
Or, where have all the April Fools’ Day greeting cards gone?

It’s always been a mystery to me why I can never find April Fools’ Day cards in stores. There’s a paucity of Pucks not to mention pranks if ever there was one!

Who says loons and buffoons don’t deserve their own card? Why has Hallmark, (who keep us chortling on birthdays and holidays), forgotten to commemorate this rather fine occasion with a card?

Perhaps by encouraging the “Inner Fool” in all of us to come out and play …card companies think all hell will break loose, the sky will fall on them, or even scarier …they’ll be sued up the ying-yang by an emperor without any clothes on.

The origin of April Fools’ Day dates back more than five hundred years, to some powerful potentates in Europe who wanted a new calendar. Or, maybe it had something to do with the Fickle Finger of Fate’s bad hair day!

Truth is, people got bored in the good old days. Let’s face it bread and circus performances were wearing a tad thin. And cooling one’s heels on a street corner in the hope of meeting a guy named “Godot” wasn’t all that much fun either.

Change is always hard …especially if some poor fish wants to keep the old calendar festive occasions, while new kids on the block want to muck up everything. Not surprisingly, chaos ensued. (You know …the typical right hand not knowing what the left hand is doing, the usual foot in the mouth games, not to mention the odd tongue-in-cheek was bound to drive most clodplates, cretins and cullies crazy.)

Naturally, the fools — those who didn’t celebrate the New Year in January but liked a lot of hoopla to mark the birth of spring — got the short end of the stick. But pucks (and for that matter pixies) should never be under-estimated.

January, June or whatever…what’s a mundane month or two either way among friends? People, people, people …it’s time to let go of all that linear thinking and cogitate outside the box or color beyond the lines for pity’s sake!!

Which reminds me, who else but a fool can be relied upon to rush in where wise men never go? By the way, Mars has gone retrograde so don’t act on that tip about a gold scheme in the jungles of Indonesia …unless of course you dream of playing with funny money in a place called “Fool’s Paradise”!

Poppycock problems always demand super-sized solutions, so fools got down to business. Turning tables on twits and twerps, not to mention Tweedledees & Tweedledums, seemed like good idea at the time.

And, thanks to those playful pranks on “All Fools Day”, tickling funnybones is infinitely more entertaining than snapping chicken (wish)bones.

So toss your troubles in the trashcan, face down your fear making a fool of yourself in public, and start handing out your own “frequent featherbrain” or “frequent flubber” cards!

After all, what better way to honor our “Inner Fool” than the gift of glee. So get out there and enjoy a lick of laughter, a jolt of joy, or maybe a taste of titillation at least one day a year!

About the Author

Samantha Tooting-Beck, an avid April Fools’ Day prankster and puckish pixie with a very fertile imagaination who spends way too much time in the cockamamie Court of the Quipping Queen at www.quippingqueen.blogspot.com

Which one is more painful: Calling tech support or a root canal?

Calling tech support can be a lot like going to the dentist with a toothache, whereupon the dentist pulls out one tooth at a time and keeps asking if it still hurts. He finally gets to the last tooth and says, “Ah, that’s the one.”

Tech support people fall into three major categories: those who know what they’re talking about, those who have no idea what they’re talking about but think they do, and those who know they don’t know what they’re talking about but want to convince you they do. It’s this last one you really have to worry about. They’ll keep you on the phone for as long as it takes to convince you that the problem is in your head and that your CD drive is SUPPOSED to sound like a washing machine during an earthquake.

When being told by tech support that a problem is not resolvable, try calling back. With most major companies, you’ll probably get another person whom you can present with the same problem. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve called back after being told a problem is not resolvable and then being given the solution by the next tech support person I spoke to.

This approach may also be worthwhile when you are given a solution that may take you a considerable amount of time to test after you hang up. Rather than spend two hours just to find out the “solution” doesn’t work, call again. If the second solution matches the first, there’s a decent chance it’s the correct one. If not, if the first one told you that your printer won’t print, for example, because your new cartridge is defective and the second one told you that it won’t print because your toaster is on “Extra Dark” (the logic behind it might be something like, the toaster is sucking away all the “black stuff” from your printer), it’s a good idea to call back. No, not to find out how to lower the setting on your toaster; to find out if anyone at tech support is from the same planet as your printer’s manufacturer.

But don’t overdo the calling back. I once called about 4 or 5 times from a cell phone in a bad reception area. After giving my name, phone number, and a description of the problem, I lost the phone signal before getting a response. By the time I called back from a new location with better reception, they told me they already had me down as calling several times about the same issue and could no longer support me on this matter. Thank god my plumber doesn’t work this way.

In another instance, I called tech support just before sitting down to eat supper. The guy gave me so many “solutions” before giving me the correct one, by the time I got back to my supper, what was originally meat and potatoes, was now meat, potatoes and mushrooms.

The lessons to be learned from all this are, first, don’t be afraid to call back more than once for the same problem — but don’t abuse the privilege. And if you’re going to call from a cell phone, be sure to call with your free unlimited anytime minutes — because there’s always that chance you’ll get someone with unlimited solutions and you won’t be free any time soon.

shopndrop.com

Josh Greenberger: A computer consultant for over two decades, the author has developed software for such organizations as NASA’s Goddard Institute of Space Studies, AT&T, Charles Schwab, Bell Laboratories and Chase Manhattan Bank. Since 1984, the author’s literary works have appeared in such periodicals as The New York Post, The Daily News, The Village Voice, The Jewish Press, and others. His articles have ranged from humor to scientific to topical events. Visit him at http://shopndrop.com

Surrealist-Traveler

At the Doctors Office

“What’s the difference between a crazy man who kills you and one who is not crazy (?) I would think they both are crazy, or both are not. Isn’t killing without motive, simply against our values?” said Troy to his Psychologist.

The good doctor looked at Troy, smiled, and laughed a little, “You been watching them courtroom battles haven’t you?” Troy smiled.

“Well, it’s simply documentation,” commented the good Doctor.

“Do I have good documentation,” replied Troy.

“I think you are thinking about suicide my good friend,” commented the doctor, adding “…please tell me about your week. You know what you got to do so get it out, off those rounded shoulders of yours, so you can let go, go forward in life, smell the roses again. My job son is to bring you back, back, back to being a healthy person.”

“Say Doc,” asked Troy, “I wish I had more friends to talk to, and then I wouldn’t have to see you. Spend all this money so someone will listen to me. Do you believe doctors are simply good listeners?”

“Troy, get back into telling me about your week, you are avoiding the real issues. I will feed you back your distortions, generalizations, your incomplete white lies so you can look at the real issues,” said the doctor with a slight slant towards irritation.

“Maybe all I need is a good listener; do you know where I can find one? Maybe I do not need an interpreter, I’m not a Picasso you know,” replied Troy.

“Oh, that is quite a good analogy my friend, quite good, quite good, but you are avoiding again, yes indeed, avoiding the real issue!” exclaimed the doctor.

“Well doc, if you must know, I have been a little mixed up lately; things have been somewhat confusing this week for me. First, I went running around trying to find a camera, a Browne camera; like my mother first bought me in the l950’s. I know my childhood is coming up. But you know, you know I like taking pictures, it relaxes me.

My next stop was Tuesday, that last one was Monday (‘I know‘, commented the doctor) the Browne that is. As I was saying, going to say, got to say, I had a gun in my hand in my old house where I grew up, where my grandfather and mother and my brother lived with me years ago. I shot all the rounds in the gun, except three didn’t go off. I took out all the bullets then, to include the ones that didn’t go off: the bullets and shells that is. But I put one back in, I think that it is the one you called the suicide bullet.” The Doctor shook his head in agreement, and said ‘continue.’

Then on Wednesday, I found myself on top of that house again, and I had to mend a big hole in the roof, but in checking it out—you see I had bought the house, I do own many properties you know, and they all bring me headaches, but they bring me money also—I found myself going through the roof down onto the kitchen creating a second hole. I think you would say doc, I am having distress with the whole show of reality, and that is what can happen, will happen, in such cases; and simply look forward to more things like that happening, thus, you get more stressed out, you’re in the wrong business—this is what I think I should tell my second self. You know, all that kind of stuff and garbage.” Again the doctor shook his head in agreement, and said ‘continue’.

“Well, then it was Thursday, I found out my grandfather was richer then I knew, and I was brought to this warehouse he owned. I was given a tour around the place and they had all these distorted animals, as if they were breeding them as hybrids. One got to me doc, but I think it is the whole gamut of events, so, the world I live in now, and sometimes the demon world it seems like, it all got to me. Something else I remember now that we are talking, that I am talking; my old female boss’ daughter was there. She was working for my grandfather; as if it was a conspiracy against me, gathering information to tell him to fire me.” The doctor’s eyebrows went up, and said, ‘good, continue.’

“But doc, can’t we look at this a little deeper. Here are my bosses…”

“I said continue Troy!”

“Well, doc, we’re up to Friday,” Troy looked at the doctor waiting for an answer. Put his hand on his head,

“Can we not have a dialogue instead of this one man conversation?”

Replied the Doctor with discontent, ”If you think I am going to pay you for listening to me you are crazy.”

Having said that Troy continued: “Well as I was saying, I’m at Friday and I find myself a little mixed up, and tired, fatigued if you will. It keeps coming back in my mind, everything, so many doors, and meetings,” the doctor starts to write this down something, “and I just can’t figure out what doors, and who the introduction is intended for.”

Commented the doctor, “It is my doors, and I am the person you are producing the introduction for. But really it is not an introduction, since we do not have a theme, plot or ending.”

“But I do have an ending, and theme, I just haven’t got to them yet—with my story here. You know, when you read a book, it’s got its insertions you never expect, and you must read the whole book.”

“Mr. Burroghs are you the doctor now!” said the doctor with a heightened voice.

“Sorry sir, I mean doc.”

“Then continue Mr. Burroghs,” added the doctor.

“Well, I’m at Saturday now. I don’t know where I’m at, I forgot. You know doc I don’t really want to continue with Saturday, Sunday, Friday or this Monday. I just want to put the garbage under the rock and leave it there for the worms.”

“No, you must let the worms come out. Leave the rock where it is. If you must, skip to Monday, and let me know how you feel now…so do it,” moaned the doctor with a deep release of air from his chest.

Troy didn’t say a word, mimicked the doctor with a deep sigh release from his chest, and simply pulled out his handgun, .357 Magnum, pointed it at the doctor and shot—but it wasn’t loaded of course, the doctor was trying to find his pad, where he wrote out his bills. The doctor never looked up at Troy knowing what was happening he was too busy writing. Then Troy simply stood up, walked out of the office, it was close to lunchtime and the secretary was gone. He left the handgun, with a note on his desk (paid in full), and went home for a good days sleep.

3-2002/Revised 12/29/2005;modified 2/22/06

See Dennis’ web site: http://dennissiluk.tripod.com

So it’s my fifth (and final) year of undrgrad and I am planning on getting my own place; but right before that happens I get an opportunity to rent a house for a total of $750 month, and this includes utilities. Well, no shit, I’m going to go for it. All I have to do is find two roommates. Well I met some dude (we will refer to him as CrazyBones) in a class the semester before. He seemed a little off, but overall we got along and we had been in touch that summer and coincidently he needed a place to stay and he had met someone (we will call him DnD for Drunk and Desperate) who needed a place to stay and this set up worked well at the time.

Less than a week into the semester, CrazyBones decides that he doesn’t need to go to class anymore. So this, along with the fact he doesn’t have a job, provided ample free time for him to sit around in sweat pants and be an all around scrub. As a few weeks went by I could just tell by some small actions and a glint he had in his eye something was definitely not right in this guy’s brain. But I’ll spare the small details and go straight to the shit.

So it all starts one night when we threw a party. Everything is going fine until about 11pm when one of my buddies says that CrazyBones just ran half the party out because he yelled at whoever was in earshot that they were all essentially worthless because they weren’t paying attention to his crappy attempt a freestyle rapping (mind you he is 6,4 250 or so lbs and a goony looking white guy). I took this with a grain of salt and continued having a good time until about 4am when some dude comes into the basement all bloody and says I need to take CrazyBones to the hospital. oh, shit…..Well apparently the two had gotten in a massive fight in CrazyBones’ room and there was blood everywhere and a window was broken and his hand was sliced up pretty bad. So I drive him to the hospital and I wait in the lobby as he is being attended to. And after about an hour he comes out having stole a bunch of the hospitals crap saying they were taking too long and he was going to deal with it himself. He disappeared the next morning and eventually subsided a few days later fixed up. I don’t know and don’t want to.

Maybe a week or so after that I come downstairs to find all the furniture we had had (which was mostly his) he moved to the basement, where he set up shop and reversed the lock so only he could get in. At this time he is hanging around some pretty shady people (he always did, but these were even worse) going in and out of the house. All he is doing is hanging out in the basement and maybe he would run an errand or two during the week. Mind you he isn’t going to class and has no job. And there are empty bottles of prescription pills everywhere.

Then he starts antagonizing people and attempting to pick fights with just about everybody. At one point he threatned to kill myself and the other roommate, DnD, as of now I completely forgot what the premise of the conversation was, but this type of thing happened pretty much every night for a month. Dealing with CrazyBones was like walking on landmines.
With the aid of the Univeristy (who owned the house) we encouraged CrazyBones to move. A few months later I hear he is charged for felony B & E. I don’t hear anything about him for three months when he calls and tells me that he was going through rehab and some twelve step programs and is calling to ask my forgiveness. I give him my forgiveness and he tells me that he had been dealing crystal meth out of the basement and he was doing tons of meth AND he, at the time of all this, decided to quit taking medication for bipolar disorder.

BUT, this is only the first part of the story

After CrazyBones moved out, we still had a room to fill and since DnD was too much of a cheap ass to split $750 down the middle he wanted to get another roommate. He suggests his brother, who turns out to be another completely worthless human being. What DnD failed to tell me about his brother at first (he waited until it became an issue two months later) was that his brother had been kicked out their parents, his girlfriend’s, and and alcohol rehab center. DnD’s brother major problem was that he was drunk and loud and would actually get so drunk he would stumble over his own feet. I put up with this until the night when this dude somehow tipped the entire refrigerator over. I can’t even begin to explain what that kitchen looked like the next day. And DnD also found his brother was hiding some small weapons by his bed. Needless to say we kicked him out as well.

The main morals of this story are
1.) If you plan to live by yourself….DO IT!!!!
2.) If someone seems a little crazy chances are they are a lot crazy

About the Author

Since 1989 we have helped over 1 million people find rooms or roommates. Need help, contact us at www.roommateexpress.com