Posts Tagged 'Humor'

What is this, do you suppose?

professor speaks

So, yes, that’s the question. What is this, do you suppose?

IMG_0510

Now, there could be a few answers to that question.

But I’m talking about the long, stringy, green plant-like thingy in the forefront of the picture.

Dost thou know?

I’m not sure either.

Someone mentioned an onion.

I don’t believe it, of course.

After all, this is an onion:

This Is What Happens When You Put An Onion In Your Ear Overnight

Ew no! I meant this:

images

This is a great lesson why never to search for things on google. You might get anything.

Here we are:

images-1

Now I’ve completely lost my train of thought.

So, here, dadblame it all.

Naked Mole Rat

Naked Mole Rat

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The Krampus vs. Santa Claus

Okay, so here it is:

The professor is somewhat obsessed with the Krampus.

Why, you may ask?

Because I fear he might be coming.

See, for those of you who are unfamiliar with the Krampus, it’s a beast that punishes bad children at Christmas time.

Santa Claus gives presents to the good children, but the Krampus beats them (with logs, I think) or carries them away to that fiery place.

Nikolaus_krampus

Now, this is the Krampus and Santa Claus in one pic. It took me forever to find SC. He’s in the back with a funny hat on.

images

Hard to see, but here’s the Krampus leading away a bunch of children.

Not very scary. Why, I’d fetch that brute right out. But the Krampus is scarier in other pictures, I must admit.

film_krampus_heroimage_desktop_1600x900

Krampus likes snow thingies.

Krampus_at_Perchtenlauf_Klagenfurt

Krampus needs a dentist.

Now, we must get back to what this professor was saying above. I said I feared this chap was on his way.

And it’s true.

See, we’re all naughty, I think, so that means the Krampus is coming. I’m giving you a heads-up to prepare.

Sharpen your swords and get ready.

One last thing.

If Santa…

evil-santa

…was to square off against the Krampus, I’m betting on Santa. Who do you suppose would win the fight?

Also, if you’re interested…

The Professor & Yoga

I’ll be quite honest, the sudden: This professor has had trouble separating Yoga and Yoda.

And I’m not sure why.

Unknown

After all, the similarities end at the names. I mean, could you really see Yoda making these sort of moves?

Yoga_1

Is this a guy or girl, do you suppose?

Yeah, me neither. And this brings us to a great fact of life: Yoda is the most un-agile creature ever–unless he’s fighting Count Dooku.

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But anyways, in order to stop equating yoga and Yoda, this professor stepped into a a Yoda place the other day. I mean yoga.

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It was a mistake.

There was a woman in the oddest position ever, stretched out on a mat. But even though she was seemingly tied up in a not, she was up and facing me in less than a second.

In fact, it was so fast, I wasn’t able to respond to her question.

I was still in shock, see.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

She just stood there smiling.

Eventually: “Yes, you see, what’s the principle difference between Yoga and Yoda?”

It was a bad first question, I admit.

She laughed a bit. “Are you looking to get into Yoga?”

Then I got my professorish momentum back. “Oh no,” I said, beginning to walk about  the place.

See, never stand straight without moving. This allows the other person the upper-hand. If you’re constantly moving about, the other person is immediately put on the defense. Since they have to follow you about and speak to you at the same time.

That’s a hard thing to do. Especially for girls.

Sure enough, she started to follow me about. I was also spying while walking. Good time to spy.

“Then…” She seemed confused. “Can I help you?”

“Not at all, you know,” I said. “I just wanted to see if anyone actually did Yoga.”

I looked about the empty room.

“The class is in a few hours.”

“How many guys do it?”

She was perplexed. “A…few?”

“How many professors?”

“What?”

“Good day, madam.”

I was able to keep the attacker off-balance and spy at the same time.

It was a good day.

Conclusion: Both Yoda and Yoga share another similarity; the force is a part of both, and will end up destroying both. 

The Meeting: Blood Transfusions

My name tag said “Darnell Thomas” and I didn’t mind.

This is unusual.

Usually, this professor likes his name best.

But there was some sort of ring to Darnell Thomas. (Could also stand for Defensive Tackle.)

FOXBORO, MA - NOVEMBER 14: Defensive tackle Vince Wilfork #75 of the New England Patriots watches the game against the Buffalo Bills at Gillette Stadium on November 14, 2004 in Foxboro, Massachusetts. The Patriots defeated the Bills 29-6. (Photo by Ezra Shaw/Getty Images)

Mr. Vince W. DT.

Anyways and some, I had snuck into some sort of conference and I was going to make the most of it.

I found a seat and sat, quicker than melting lava.

And what luck: as soon as I had sat, the meeting began.

An old woman–with flaming green hair–she must dye it, see–stood behind the podium, and started having speaks.

“Welcome everyone,” she said.

She spoke softly, but there was a scary tone in her voice.

In other words, if this professor was down an alleyway, and she was there, I’d run.

images

“First order of business,” she continued, “is this: We shall find out what blood type you are, then we will effectively start the transfusions.”

She stepped down from the podium, and this professor broke out into a sweat.

Transfusions? That was ghastly, scary, and horrid.

And at that minute, the real Darnell Thomas came in. He was carrying a Chihuahua.

(Okay, time out for a minute. ‘Chihuahua’ is not worth the trouble it takes to spell it. Dadblameit!)

Now, I knew it was Darnell Thomas because he was being chased by security. As soon as he came running in, I jumped up.

The Chihuahua bounded out of his arms and jumped on me, ripping at me with his sharp teeth.

AngryDog

I yelled “enough!” twice, but he didn’t seem to mind. Then I found out ‘he’ was a ‘she’ and it was even worse.

Darnell Thomas–the real one–was coming for me, but the security got him, and the dog, and dragged them out.

Probably to jail.

“Sorry for that, Mr. Thomas,” said the green-haired woman, who was, the sudden, standing next to me. “Will you give your announcement now?”

So I strode up to the podium, and said:

“I don’t think we should do anymore blood transfusions. Look what happened to the Incas.”

And I left.

[NOTE: It turns out, my line of reasoning with regards to the Incas and blood transfusions is quite flawed. See, the Incas actually had great success performing blood transfusions, way before blood types were even studied. This is because the Inca population had only two different blood types: A and O. Therefore, they did rather well at the practice. Of course, I’m sure the green-haired lady, or anyone else at the meeting, didn’t catch my mistake.]

At the Bakery

So, I like cookies a bit.

You know?

Especially cherry cookies.

Wait. I lie.

I’ve never had a cherry cookie, have you?

Exactly right! They don’t exist. Or, at least, they seem not to.

Professor’s Newest Theory: Cherry Cookies do not exist.

So, I tested the theory and went into a local bakery.

sweet-tooth-fairy-bakery-5

Now, I must say the bakery was rather full. And packed. And busy. It was rather full, see.

“Excuse me!” I shouted over the din.

No answer for a little bits.

“Excuse me a few times!”

You’d be surprised, but that worked. The people in front of me turned around, and I got to the front.

A fat woman was at the register.

“What would you like?” she asked, grabbing that little plastic paper thingy they have to use to grab cookies with.

“I’d like–” I began, but she cut me off.

“A lemon custard cookie? Sure thing.”

And faster than a rabbit on drugs, faster than Muhammed on the back of an ass, faster than Brock Lesnar…

4281218-6083399682-Brock

Brock Lesnar

…faster than ever, she grabbed a lemon custard cookie and handed it to me.

“Very nice,” I said, pushing her hand and the cookie aside, “but I wasn’t looking for that.”

Her face fell. “What? What do you want, then?”

“I’ll take…” I’d quite forgotten what I came in for, the sudden.

“Hey, buddy,” a voice said behind me. “Hurry up, I want a cookie.”

I did the only decent thing one can do in such a situation: I took the lemon custard cookie from the woman and gave it to him.

“Now, see here,” I said to the lady, “do you have cherry cookies?”

And she gave me one.

I was astounded.

PF, cherry cookies exist.

Let’s have a dance to celebrate.


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