Calling Harold Grubbs

On an off day, this one chap put on one of his better suits
and a tie, cranked up some march music on the stereo,
then stood before a full length mirror, above which he had
placed a sign reading, “In Tribute To Me; Mister Humanity!”
and he began to recite:
“I can do and I can think,
I may sweat and I may stink. 
I may stand and I may fall,
I don’t do bad-LY at all.”
(He was then overcome by fits of laughter as
he suddenly realized what a kidder he was.)


As he daily confronted the unfolding episodes of his life,
this one man would confidently say, “This is a job
for Harold Grubbs!”  (Need I tell you what his name is not?)


Although spark plugs have a life of their own,
they do not, beyond an engine having one of its own. 
(A more manifold reality dictates that even with a
“Discount Coupon” worth “A 100% Off,”  which is
fully honored, you still always owe something.)


At a recent gathering of the Part-Time Philosopher’s Society,
when it was his turn, one fellow stood and delivered thusly,
“A man who can’t control his dog, cannot control his tongue.” 
And after sitting back down, a chap beside him whispered,
“I say, I’m not at all sure I understand,”, to which the guy replied,
“Do you have a dog?”  “As a matter of fact, I do not.” 
“Well, do you have a tongue?”  “Coincidentally, yes.” 
The first speaker then said, “Well, bring it with you and try to
slip over the fence into my backyard late some night.”


(Only the submissive feel repentant.)



This entry was posted in Daily News. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.