This Passes for Humor
By Anthony Buccino
When I'm gone, what will become of my stuff? Will my surviving relatives declare my stuff as crap and send it off to the Happy Hill Recycling Farm?
"Why not get a traditional white bunny? They're the kind that deliver the eggs – and the chocolates," I suggested.
"So long, New York, Howdy, Belleville." What if Bob Dylan lived in a boarding house in Belleville in the 1960s ...
No. I told her I had nothing to do with missing shopping channels. In spite of my record years ago of deleting them and her never knowing we got home shopping channels, I'm actually innocent this time.
The kids in Cabbage Patch were doing
Last July, somebody named Omar posted, “You’ll thank me for this when you get older.” He then added, “No, Mom, my therapist thanks you!”
The Nutley author left directions that the envelope be opened 112 years after his April 20, 1902, death, and that its contents will reveal the long sought ending as to whether or not it was the lady or the tiger...
I offer not only to run out to my friendly neighborhood humongous 24-hour home center for the missing bulbs and return not only with the bulbs brightly burning, but also three cups of that world famous Dunkin’ Donuts coffee to drink while I reassemble the light bulb into its fixture.
My pal Stinky sliced a bit of liver
from a stash in his mom’s old Tupperware container, put it on
the hook, cast it out, and, wham, another trout.
One of the brightest things I’ve seen in the supermarkets lately, besides canned soup in a jar, of course, is a machine that takes your money and gives you back a percentage as the price for telling you how much money you gave it in the first place.
The advent of our home fax machine turns quickly from blessing to curse to curse words. But at least the dog is happy.
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New Jersey author Anthony Buccino's stories of the 1960s, transit coverage and other writings earned four Society of Professional Journalists Excellence in Journalism awards.
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