Free Marching Bands Are Just Homeless Orchestras by Tim Siedell Page B

passports.



Now might be a good time to put money in the stock market. I would, but I lost all my money in the stock market.

    I don’t crave being driven around in outlandishly long automobiles anymore. Thank you, limousine patch.

    My oldest daughter is now a teenager. I’ve prepared for this day by preemptively hating myself for the last 40 years.



To prevent cabin fever, I’m having my doctor inject me with a small amount of microscopic cabins.

    My neighbors are stealing my Wi-Fi. I’m changing the password as soon as I get out from under their bed.

    Congress is attacking the evil on Wall Street while completely ignoring the nightmare on Elm Street.



A bread bowl is just a poor man’s meat bowl.

    We hate what we do not understand. I’m not really sure what that phrase means, but it’s a stupid whore.

    Another day without anyone assassinating me. I’m practically the anti-McKinley.







Reggae music is awesome for five minutes.

    A friend told me I’m out of touch. I laughed so hard I almost peed my Hammer pants.

    Hey ladies, if you don’t want me staring at your tattoos, maybe you should lock your front door before showering.



Just finished up an interesting water cooler conversation. That guy sure knew a lot about water coolers.

    The first rule of Scrapbooking Club is to tell everyone we’re in a Fight Club.

    I’m at a coffee-or-murder fork in the road. Either way, I doubt I’ll be getting much sleep tonight.



If I must forget things in my old age, let’s start by forgetting the fact I used to remember everything.

    My “Shakespeare in the Parking Garage” production was a failure. Seemed to be some confusion about whether or not we were actually performing on level 2B.

    This week is so slow whoever plays it in a movie will win an Oscar.



Don’t be offended if I kick your butt but don’t take your name. I’m horrible with names.

    He’s been marinating in honey for years. Don’t tell me a rack of Winnie-the-Pooh ribs wouldn’t be tasty.

    I’m glad when a concert advertises limited seating because parking is a real pain at those unlimited seating venues.



As a kid, I had lots of time but very few quarters. As an adult, I have many quarters and so little time. FORGIVE ME, CENTIPEDE!

    A panic room seems overindulgent. I can panic in any room.

    As adorable as my cat acts around laser pointers, I’m just not all that impressed with his PowerPoint presentations.



A midlife crisis is just teen angst with disposable income.

    When I want something a little healthier than an ice cream sandwich, I usually go for an ice cream salad.

    Reinstalling Microsoft Office on a Friday night. There are so many sad layers to this, I feel like an Olive Garden lasagna.



Never trust anyone under 30 lbs. Especially when it comes to driving directions. Babies are liars.

    Night people could take over the world if we weren’t so busy finding something good on TV.

    By the third time he’s sent out to pick up a pile of clothes in an alley, I bet Clark Kent’s intern is totally weirded out.







Had a minor confrontation with a neighbor. Now my shoes are completely covered in neighbor.

    Just invented Strip Miming. I charge $250 an hour to not do it. Franchises available.

    November always reminds me of Homecoming dances in high school. I think it’s the No part.



Prepping for jury duty. I want to look smart every time I object to something.

    If Clifford were a Big Red Cat, everyone would be dead.

    Leprechauns are freaky, but Chakakhanchauns are horrifying. If you hear the opening of “I Feel For You” in the woods, run.



And would it kill today’s rap artist to put on some colorful pants? Some of us really liked the colorful pants.

    Keep slumping down in your chair. Slowly. Then, when nobody can see you, slide under table. Compose yourself. Roll out door. If you escape unnoticed, great. If the other meeting participants see you roll away, my experience is they won’t stop