C’est Rire category archive

Daniel Ruth on the killing machines:

You know where you stand with dogs like Gracie and Lizzie, who are perfectly content as long as you give them your undivided attention — or a chew toy to be named later.

Meanwhile, you know a duplicitous, grumpy Mr. Buttons is somewhere else in the house plotting your demise, quite possibly over the humiliation of being named Mr. Buttons.

Cats are the animal world’s equivalent of North Korea — distant, aloof, secretive and unpredictably dangerous.

It turns out that this was true all along.

Then there’s this.

Trying to visualize this makes me fret.

You’d think it would cause band cramp.

Police in Cherry Hill, New Jersey are looking for the man who stole guitars on two occasions by putting them down his pants.

His female “accomplice” (as they call her in the story) would string along the clerk as the thief inserted the ax in his wardrobe.

No mention whether she used a g-string.

The stores need some way to fender off the thieves.

I realized, as I was shaving this morning, that I haven’t seen a commercial for shaving foam in a long time, or, for that matter, one for razors or blades.

Shaving foam and razors used to be regular ads during sporting events. If my recent foray into the football playoffs is any indication, the sponsors all seem to be car companies, breweries, and pizza joints.

Kids these days don’t know the facts of Shicks.

Perhaps that explains why a three-day stubble, or, as I fondly call it, the Yasser Arafat look, seems to be all the rage amongst the smart set.

Grab a six, get in your car, and hightail it to the pizza joint. What can possibly go wrong?

At Contradict Me.

Daniel Ruth is taken aback by the fuss over Jack Lew’s signature. (In the spirit of empirical investigation, I just fished a few bills out of my wallet and was mildly surprised to see reasonably legible signatures, but, really, who looks at the darned signature anyway, other than persons trying to spot counterfeits? Lighten up, already.)

I have a certain sympathy for Lew’s penmanship plight.

I was born left-handed. In grade school during the 1950s, the Sisters of the Blessed Waterboarding would come around with a ruler and whack anyone consumed enough by Satan to attempt to use their southpaw to write.

Consequently, after being forced to use my right hand by the Sisters of the Holy Vigilantes, my handwriting is a mystery even to me. About an hour before I started to type this, I was in an editorial board meeting with Hillsborough school superintendant MaryEllen Elia. My notes from that meeting would stump even a CIA code-breaker.

My parents told me that my grandfather was similarly forced to write right-handed, though this would have been in public schools over a century ago.

He resented it until the day he died.

Would it be safe to say that they gave a police to the bird?

Police dispatched to the flat in the western German town of Ibbenbüren heard a distinct child-like voice calling “Mama,” “Papa” and “Mama Come.”

“Police measures were launched because it couldn’t be ruled out that an accident had occurred,” the police said in a statement. The officers called the landlord and summoned the fire brigade and an ambulance.

The tension increased until a fireman finally managed to open the door.

“To their surprise they only found a parrot in the apartment, a talkative Blue-fronted Amazon. The parrot was sitting happily in its cage and greeted the officers with the words ‘Mama,’ ‘Papa’ and ‘Mama Come,’ the statement said.

That’s no lion, that’s a Labradoodle.

He is, in fact, the cat’s meow.

These folks are clearly suffering from a case of color-bindness.

Some things are just not meant to be.

Authorities say a Florida man flying home from North Carolina caught a man stealing a trailer while piloting his plane over his own home.

The News-Press (http://newspr.es/Tt71XQ) reports that David Zehntner was flying over his home in LaBelle Sunday when he saw a truck in his driveway. He lowered his altitude to get a closer look and saw a man attaching Zehntner’s trailer to the truck.

If you can’t laugh at life, it will just make you cry.

Dave Barry looks back on 2012; read it to keep from crying. A nugget:

In domestic business news, Facebook, a company with a business model that nobody really understands, spends $1 billion to buy Instagram, another company with a business model that nobody really understands. Since everybody involved is about 19 years old, Wall Street concludes this must be a good idea.

Test your knowledge.

Take the quiz.

If the embed doesn’t work, click here.

The Chicago Tribune compiles its 2012 “Scared of Santa” gallery.

If your world didn’t end this morning, check it out.

Wait for the poem at the end.

A: A wide-awake drunk.

Psychology Today helps you prepare for the holidays by explaining why coffee doesn’t sober you up.

, , , we sat for a spell.

Click for a larger image.