.
*****
While out for a stroll one evening, my wife noticed a young man sitting on a bench. “He looks exactly like you did at that age,” she said amusedly.
Curious, I approached him, asking his name.
“Luke,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
Needless to say, I couldn’t resist. Covering my face with the hood of my black jacket, I replied hilariously, “Luke, I Am Your Father.”
-Carl F. (submitted Jun. 1999)
*****
While doing renovations on our house, I decided to go out and buy new shades for the bedroom windows. Unfortunately, having never been to Home Depot before, upon arriving I realized that I didn’t know where to look.
Seeing an employee stocking shelves up ahead, I decided to ask. “Excuse me sir,” I said, tapping him politely on the shoulder, “but could you tell me where the blinds are?”
You can just imagine my embarrassment when, after turning around, I realized that he was wearing a pair of thick-lensed bifocals.
-Rose K. (Submitted Dec. 2003)
*****
We were driving in the car when I noticed my eight year-old son chewing his fingernails.
“You know, Cody, that’s a very bad habit,” I said, brushing his hand away from his open mouth.
Without missing a beat he replied, “So are dirty hookers and cocaine, but that doesn’t stop you.”
“Touché! ”
-Harvey N. (Submitted Aug. 2004)
*****
During our Biology class, the teacher chastised one of my classmates for talking to the girl sitting next to him.
“I was just asking her a question,” he said.
“Well, if you have a question, you can ask me,” the teacher replied.
“Okay,” he said. “How do you feel about giving blow jobs?”
-John K. (Submitted May 2001)
*****
When my aunt was preparing to go on vacation for two weeks, she asked my brother if he would check on her cat and dehumidifier. The day before she was to return, I called to make sure he’d been over on a regular basis.
“I was going to go,” he said defensively, ”but after she left it suddenly dawned on me that I don’t know the first thing about dehumudifying cats!”
-Bonnie Y. (Submitted Dec. 2002)
You are one of the few people who can make me laugh out loud. #4 got me this time.
Hey Pamela!
Thanks for the compliment, I only wish I could take the credit. The truth is, any of the submissions that weren’t already written by the Harveys, Carls and Roses of the world, just went out and spent a few years working with various introverted Type-A personalities, then pretty much wrote themselves.
Thanks for stopping by, Pamela, it’s always wonderful to see you.
b:)
I had a similar experience to John K.
I was in math class and the girl in front of my was wearing a jean jacket. I was trying to slying unbutton the strap in the back of the jacket and button it back around the chair so that when she stood up she would take the chair with her.
Teacher called me out asking if I was feeling up her ass.
A jean jacket? Where did you go to school, Bearman, “Grease II High”?
Regardless, although your experience is a Reader’s Digest rejected submission in itself (or non-rejected submission, were you to change the word “ass” to “buttocks”), I don’t think it’s quite the same as John K’s. You see, your intentions were honorable, attempted in an effort to entertain everyone. “Lighten the mathematical mood”, so to speak.
Whereas John’s…well, let’s just say that his intentions were purely selfish, solely for his own pleasure.
That’s why I call you a giver, Bearman. That’s why I call you a giver.
Dear Ms. Bschooled,
As a senior editor at Reader’s Digest, I have been following your series on rejected articles with great interest. I note that some of your readers have expressed surprise that the entries recorded on your blog were not deemed suitable for publication and would like to provide them (and you) with a brief outline of our editorial polices.
Here at Reader’s Digest we have an unwavering commitment to providing average American families with humorous yet average American stories. We like to think of ourselves as having a modern sensibility that is rooted firmly in the 1950s. We’re current but careful; modern but moral. To this end, we take great pains to ensure that Reader’s Digest avoids obvious and gratuitous sexual content, inappropriate language, libellous Star Wars references and any mention of the visually impaired. We also reject stories that contain 6 syllable words, poke fun of Dick Clark, discuss evolution, are disrespectful to the bee-hive hair style or are considered to be anti-Lyle Waggoner.
With your permission, I’d like use the article submitted by John K. to illustrate. The article, an undoubtedly humorous tale of young people caught in a clandestine conversation when they should have been studying, contains the phrase “blow job.” This, I would consider to be gratuitous sexual content.
The Reader’s Digest has never printed the phrase “blow job” and I can say on good authority that we never will. We won’t print “giving head” either. Or “hand job.” And you can forget about ever seeing “cock sucker” in our pages. It just won’t happen. Period.
Had the author used common sense and changed the phrase to something innocuous like “how do you feel about giving BJs?” or, even better, made it more playful and written “How do you feel about knob gobbling?” I most certainly would have ushered it through the editorial process myself and ensured it made it to print.
While I can appreciate that writers never want to receive rejection letters, I’d suggest that if they took greater efforts to research the editorial policies and readership of the publications they are submitting to, things like an errant blow job need not stand between them and seeing their work in print.
Best regards,
Peter Barneski
Senior Editor
Well, I guess I won’t bother with the angry, hand-written letter. It appears that Peter has a handle on what is appropriate sexual imagery.
I would like to ask if things would be different if the roles were reversed, with the punchline referring to “muff diving” or “box lunches at the Y.” Perhaps this would be more acceptable?
(Of course, this does “suck” some of the reality out of the situation, especially if these are high school students. I don’t believe any teen boy has ever been aware that females are also capable of receiving sexual pleasure. Maybe we could alter it to a collegiate setting, or better yet, a Continuing Education class.)
Sincerely,
C.L. Tanager
Clifton,
If you weren’t so much older it’s embarrassing (embarrassing for me, not you), I’d say that you and I were “kindred spirits”.
Well, maybe I wouldn’t use those particular words, seeing as it’s more of an old person’s term and I’m not old (embarrassingly so!), but I would use a combination of Generation X words with a similar meaning. Like “Brothers from another mother”, or “Bros before hoes.”
Something along those lines.
Anyway, it would appear that you’re right, Mr. Barneski does seem to have an incredible handle (some would even dare to call it an old-school “death grip”) on appropriate sexual imagery. However you can never underestimate the learning potential that comes from reading an original, flashback-triggering Tanager correspondence, many of which can trigger flashbacks to events that weren’t even yours to begin with.
Really, your ability to take seemingly unrelated terms (eg. haberdashery, “chop and block”, crestfallen, Burlington Coat Factory, and finding gay things) and put them together in such a way as to make one question whether they’ve been using them incorrectly all these years, is a true gift.
In fact, I would tell you to turn that sexual imagery letter of yours into a cover letter and apply for a Senior position at Reader’s Digest yourself, but I worry that you might be a little too much of a “Generational Switch-Hitter” for their liking.
And that’s a good thing.
Thank-you for blessing my thread with your wisdom, Clifton. If everyone shared your tolerance and overall nonchalant attitude towards both sexual orientation and severe internal bleeding, this world would be a brighter place indeed.
Your younger and still quite embarrassed friend,
Bschooled
Dear Mr. Barneski,
I have to say that I’m somewhat speechless right now. That a man of your distinction has read any of my posts, let alone managed to maintain a high interest level while doing so, is something I wouldn’t have imagined in my wildest dreams.
(To be fair, because my parents put the fear of God into me at such a young age, my wildest dreams are insipid at best. But still.)
Your insightful (albeit to some extent oxymoron-ish) second paragraph alone, explains the reason for every single rejection submission I’ve ever posted. And for that I am truly grateful.
I guess my anger has always stemmed from the fact that even though I knew I was ignorant to your publication’s unique modus operandi, before today, no one from Reader’s Digest had ever made any effort to deignorantize (sp?) me.
All I can say now is that knowing you’ve stayed tried and true to your practices over the years, refusing to change with the times, snubbing suggestions to go the Degrassi High route and create “Reader’s Digest, The Next Generation Publication”, just proves how much respect you have for the past. And seeing as a little well-practiced “knob gobbling” never hurt anyone (or so I’ve been told), I have no choice but to admire your magazine’s traditional values. No matter how lacklustre and “Great-Uncle Hal” they may be.
Thank-you for clearing things up, Mr. Barneski. You are not only extremely well-read, you are everything I’ve always imagined the offices of Reader’s Digest to be.
Yours truly,
Bschooled
Bschooled -
This a fine selection of rejected humour you’ve put together. Although I generally don’t go on about “blowjobs” or “Luke” in mixed company, I’ve decided to check my inhibitions at the door. Or rather, I was going to, but seem to have left my inhibitions at home. It’s not a big deal, but I generally like to have them with me. At least I know where they are when I need them again.
Rose K.’s unfortunate choices of words reminds me of an incidence that happened while perusing the local haberdashery with a couple of old friends. (Just a note for the younger set: a haberdashery is like a Hot Topic that only carries hats. Without logos. In black only. Mostly derbies and such. They can, however, “chop and block” your hat if needed, whatever that is. Even us in the older set are unclear on that concept, but none of us wants to be the person who admits that they don’t know what that is.)
Well, anyway, it had been several years since any of us had been in for a good “chopping,” and with nothing to do that lazy Saturday afternoon, we piled into the Lincoln and headed for the hatsmith.
We were in for a bit of a shock. Sometime during the last several years of our less-than-steady business, the haberdashery had undergone not only an ownership change, but a complete remodel. Rather than the subdued tones of silence to accompany your browsing, there was piped in music, all of the repetitive and highly-energetic type.
Old Cal, who had worked their since he was 11 months old, was nowhere to be found. In fact, the oldest face in the building (not including mine) was a 40-ish gentleman stocking a rack of extremely repetitive and highly-energetic ties.
He swayed back and forth and hummed along to the rapidly encroaching music, engrossed in his work. We waited patiently for him to acknowledge our presence and make with the chopping and blocking.
While we waited, we gazed around at the multi-colored suits and animal print vests in bemusement. This bemusement soon shifted to uneasiness as we looked in vain for anything in a basic black or grey. Not only were these two wardrobe essentials missing, but there seemed to be no wool, worsted or extremely flammable polyester within eyesight.
I turned to my companions with a grave look and stated: “We may have to head to Burlington Coat Factory if I’m to find something gay for Mary Morgenstern’s 90th birthday.”
Just then the clerk turned around and we found ourselves staring directly at his black t-shirt, on which was imprinted in a very violent pink: “Ask me about my sexual orientation.”
We hightailed it out of there before any more foots could be inserted in any more mouths. Of course, our top speed maxed out at a “steady shuffle,” and he paced us all the way to the door, asking if he could be of assistance in some way.
Carlton began to inquire about the mysterious chopping/blocking procedure, but a swift elbow to his ribs cut him off in midsentence (and, as I found out later, fractured his brittle rib and caused a serious amount of internal bleeding).
We hustled through the exit, dragging Carlton’s limp and nearly-lifeless body. The clerk held the door for us, once again asking if there was anything he could do. We brusquely stated that we had been given some bad directions, most likely from some hippies, and were headed quickly away from here.
He seemed a little crestfallen (but that may have been an intentional hairdo…) but he wished us well and asked if we would be returning in the future. I threw out a quick and noncomittal grunt. Carlton gasped something and passed out again.
As we pulled out of the parking lot, the clerk jogged up to the driver’s side and motioned for me to roll down my window. I complied and he said, “But… but… you didn’t ask me about my sexual orientation.”
I looked at him briefly and said, “You’re a homosexual, right?” He applauded and jumped up and down. “I am,” he said, and strutted confidently back into his store. It seemed to have made his day.
Well, once again I’m not sure where I was headed with that, but it was a pleasure meandering there with you, bschooled. As soon as I hit “submit,” I’m off to the desk to fire off a handwritten letter to Reader’s Digest. Perhaps my “old school” charm will get through their thick and near-sighted skulls and finally give you the recognition you deserve.
“Dirty hookers and cocaine.” That’s worth its weight in solid amethyst.
Sincerely,
C.L. Tanager
Mr. Tanager,
Along with bschooled delightful humor, I highly anticipate your erudite and entertaining comments composed in their engaging P. G. Wodehousian/S. J. Perelmanesque style. I only wish I could relate stories with the flair you display, but my agoraphobia has robbed me of many memorable adventures.
I only wish I could speak with the same eloquence and flair as the two of you…
I can see your fans and their alternate fan personas flocking to tell you how wonderful you are. Well missy, I for one am not taken in by this sort of re-packaged claptrap. Up until now, I have let these literary laspes go (being as you’re a Canadian and all), but I felt my duty to the reading public demanded that I at least mention this to you. And don’t get you panties in a wad over the ‘Canadian’ remake, it’s a fine country that has produced some decent mimes. At least you had the moxie to use the term blowjob instead of the disgusting term handjob.
Since you’ve got several hours of comment responses ahead of you, I will take leave of you, but I am keeping my eye on you.
Harmony
Well, I was going to leave a comment, but I’m all out of real estate on my screen and I only recognize about a third of the faces in here, yours included, Harmony. Or excluded.
Either way, that hand-thing is right. Blowjob > handjob.
Breathtakingly hilarious stuff, bschooled. Any job including Dad + coke + filthy whores is a keeper in my book. (BTW, I’ll be selling copies of this book from my trunk later. Stop by if you get a chance. Pay no attention to the cover, which looks like “The Anarchist’s Handbook,” only with “Anarchist” crossed out and “CLT” written above it. It was probably a printing error…)
Thank-you, CLT.
Not only for the accolades (“accolades” in the ‘Expression of approval’ definition of the word, mind you, not the “Ceremonial bestowal of knighthood” meaning), but for the heads up about the book.
Oh, and don’t worry about the cover. Unless there’s a picture of a bunch of shopping bags and a catchy title like “Confessions of a Shopoholic! Buying Stuff! In Paris! With Her Sister! And Let’s Not Forget The Baby!! Now With 33% More Zombies!!” I usually don’t pay much attention.
Oh, I forgot to mention that Doug Henning was Canadian or at least his teeth were. So, you have that going for you.
Great to see you again, Harmony,
You’re right about Doug Henning, the Pathologist’s report determined that his teeth were indeed Canadian. Not that you needed an expert to figure that out, seeing as the two front ones were found coated in maple syrup, wearing a matching set of unsightly toques.
You’re also right about the re-packaged claptrap. Not to mention the wadded panties (although how you knew that is beyond me!). I think it’s safe to say that incontinence underwear isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. (I’m sure there’s a joke in there somewhere, however my lack of a good night’s sleep is preventing me from getting to it right now).
Thank-you for the all-knowing comment, Harmony. I’m gladd it’s you keeping an eye on me, and not some deceased Canadian illusionist with Farah Fawcett hair and monster-claw hands. (I only hope it’s the left eye, seeing as the right tends to wander towards my unsightly widow’s peak.)
I’m going to keep it brief, Bschooled, as Mister Barneski and Tanager covered a lot of excellant ground, so it’s time for a “short tune” to mix things up.
Whatever that means.
Regardless . . . I really love the dry humor of your cat joke. Get it? DRY humor? the dehumudifier joke? Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha and ha!
It’s late, B. I’m so damn sorry. Your post deserves a better reply. I need help.
I hate to say this Dan (Lord do I hate to say this), but your joke made me LOL…out loud. (Which, according to the definition of LOL means that I laughed out loud, out loud…)
Now, let me make one thing clear: Even though I have no idea what any of what I just wrote means, seeing as I’m still hopped up on cold meds I feel as though this comment of mine deserves a free pass.
Or, at the very least, a “Thanks For Coming Out” ribbon.
Thanks for the guffaw-worthy comment, Dan. I’ll read it again once the meds have worn off just to make sure, but I’m pretty confident that I’ll still laugh as hard (if not harder) as I did the first time.
Ha! Cold meds are so much damn fun . . .
bschooled, I LOL’d at Rose K with her innocence and then at John K for his moxie. I wonder if Rose is John’s mother?
Say, could you get me a deal on maple syrup? :-D.
I can definitely get you a deal on maple syrup, TSIB! In fact, provided you take care of the shipping and handling (be careful, it’s sticky!) I can send you a vat for free.
Back in my rebellious days, I used to siphon maple syrup from trees all the time.
(It’s not something I’m proud of, mind you, but it was the only way I could prove to the other gang members that I wasn’t a wuss…)
While ‘walking’ around the World Wide Web, I saw a familiar segment of comedy writing on one of my favourite blog sites, and I thought, fancy seeing that here! (Even though it wasn’t actually a surprise). Nethertheless, I still think its safe to say it’s a small world afterall, not a wide one!’
– Submitted by RTS
Love it!!
RTS, if that’s not a first-class RD Rejected Submission, well then I don’t know what is!
(…But really I do, seeing as I made up the idea myself. So I guess what I just said was pretty much superfluous.)
The best compliment I could give you, bschooled, is to reference the caliber of commenters that flock to your blog. That says it all really. When I read this post, I noticed that I responded with gradations of laughter. For example:
Joke # 1) Immediate laugh as it was so corny
Joke # 2) This merited ‘delayed laughter’ (5 sec pause before the laugh kicked in)
Joke # 3) I could not laugh at this one because I wanted to THROTTLE Cody so badly
Joke # 4) This is what I call a ‘burp chuckle’
Joke # 5) This laugh is reserved for dumbasses (the ‘chortle’ while exclaiming “what a MORON!”)
Great post…as always, thanks for the entertainment!! You were born to blog. There are three people I count as virtual blogging friends: YOU, CLT, and FJ. It’s all good.
Elizabeth!
Those were the best examples I could possibly ask for.
Truth be told I wanted to throttle Cody as well, which is just another reason why you and I make such a great team. If only we could pack up our laptops, round up CLT and FJ and take our act on the road, we’d be set.
Think about it. The four of us could be the next Jackson 5! Only with four! And instead of singing and dancing and getting plastic surgery, we’d be sitting behind a computer screen the whole time. True, we’d only be able to do shows in countries with high-speed internet access, but seeing as those are the ones that would probably pay us the most anyway, it all works out.
All I ask is that you think about it. You know, mull it over…
I will offer myself up to be the fifth “Jackson” on your virtual tour. If you’re feeling iffy about this, you could use me “on call” if one of you has 1) a nervous breakdown; 2) heart attack; 3) heartburn; or 4) hormonal issues.
I will be here with my vat of maple syrup and pancakes awaiting your decision.
Sincerely,
The Fifth Jackson
Haha!! No need to await anything, TSIB.
Grab your shiny unitard and plastic surgeon, You’re in!!!!
ps. Hope you know how to play the harmonica…
What a fluke running into Luke like that
I know! I said the same exact same thing when I wrote it!! Seriously, NM, isn’t life crazy sometimes?? ;)
HA! I just noticed the horse for the first time. It was like that time I ran into Sarah Jessica Parker in Central Park.
Joke 1- I did the same thing three times to three of my own kids who didn’t know I was really their dad. That’s the beauty of being a deadbeat dad, the comedic opportunities are endless.
#2- Although I’m not much of a do it yourselfer (unless it comes to masturbation) I have had some experience in the Home Depot (not masturbating though) and I do have to commend them for their indiscriminate hiring practices. I guess it’s like the blind leading the blind…HA!
#3- If Harvey would dip his son’s fingers in the dirty hooker it would be a great way to break the fingernail biting.
#4- I was wondering how the teacher replied? If it was Debra Lafave you could just forward this bad boy to the Penthouse Forums desk.
#5- I’m not yet sufficiently over the tragedy of the kitten to be funny for this one….but I don’t understand why the cat needed dehumidifying in the first place. Poor kitty.
Haha! I remember the time I ran into Sarah Jessica Parker in Central Park. Only turns out it wasn’t Sarah jessica Parker, it was Tori Spelling. And it wasn’t in Central Park, it was on a made for TV movie.
(Truth be told, I still have nightmares about it.)
I don’t even know what to say about observations two through four, Scott. It’s like one of those things I want to print off, have bronzed and then put on my mantle. The only thing stopping me is the fact that if I were to do that, my Mother would be mortified. (She’s fluent in braille and therefore very sensitive when it comes to blind jokes).
I’m sure you’ve heard this before but the fact you love kittens makes you all the more of an anomaly. In a good way. If you ever want someone to write your life story (or translate it into L337), let me know.
In fact, I already have the perfect title; “Zodi-Still Saving Kittens and Dipping Into Dirty Hookers After All These Years…”
(It still needs a little work, but you get the idea.)
Just what I needed to start my day with a laugh – some classic b humor which, being Canadian myself, I can fully appreciate (and it also allows me to flash my pearly whites so it’s all good).
I’ve finally learned to keep all beverages away from the computer when I come to your blog, b. Who says an old dog can’t learn new tricks? Oh course, not all old dogs are open to learning new tricks and, yes, I’m talking about Mr. Barneski!
You’re right, T (was there ever any question?), Mr. Barneski does seem a little set in his ways. Still, you have to respect a man determined to hold on to tradition, head-encompassing eyeglasses and ancient Urban Dictionary expressions like “knob gobbling”.
Then again, who knows. Maybe it’s only a matter of time before the term knob gobbling becomes all the rage again. I mean, after the 80′s, I thought I’d never wear another unitard and leg warmers combo…and look at me now!!!!
(I know you can’t see me, but just picture it.)
“While out for a stroll one evening, my wife noticed a young man sitting on a bench. “He looks exactly like you did at that age,” she said amusedly.
Curious, I approached him, asking his name.
“Luke,” he said. “Why do you ask?”
Needless to say, I couldn’t resist. Covering my face with the hood of my black jacket, I replied hilariously, “Luke, I Am Your Father.””
LOSTL! I only just watched the Star Wars! Its so wonderful!
And my friend Rick says that today is May 4th. As in “May the Fourth be with You!” LOSTL! HE HAD ME IN STITCHES!
So great to read your blobs again, B!
Bob
HAHAHAHAHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAH…#3…was my favorite…you are an irrepressible madcap….hahhahahahahhaah love the readers digest..going to go have to get one right now…but i think yours is the adult version YES???…Zman sends