Burton Cole column

Every day in June offers a (weird) holiday

The world has turned so bitter that I propose we institute a moratorium on meanness on holidays. Fortunately, every day is a holiday! So let’s stop calling each other names, break out the cake and ice cream, and celebrate. Here’s a sampling of actual events, oddities and strange doings — ...

Crafter chilled at use of refrigerator as scrapbook

“You should scrapbook your memories,” our enthusiastic crafter friend said. “We do.” I led her to the refrigerator. “Isn’t it a beaut?” She peered on either side of the fridge. Stood on tiptoes to peek at the top. Scratched her head. “All I see is the refrigerator.” “The ...

Roof goats and ant kitchen cleaners — pet brigade rocks

My friend Warner observed that we do ourselves a disservice by killing ants that crawl into the house. “It makes sense,” he said. “You drop crumbs. They take them away. If you kill the ants, you’re stuck cleaning up both insect carcasses and crumbs. Let the ants live and they clean the ...

It is what it is. Whatever. Watch out for that bus

I am literally annoyed. And so, the survey says, are you. The phrases we use daily create this whole synergy thing, in a ballpark kind of way, that give 110 percent when you stay in the loop but think outside the box. At the end of the day, it’s a win-win situation that is what it is. Yeah, ...

Chocolate is always the answer

I squinted at the small print and bellowed. “Who shrunk my book?” I focused on the usual suspect. “Terry, did you run my favorite book through the wash?” My wife rubbed her temples. She does that a lot, for some reason. “Why would you think I’d run a load of books through the ...

Of mice, grumpy men and cats looking for the maternity ward

All my life, I’ve had this distressing problem with animals. They like me. It’s nearly impossible to keep up my reputation as a grumpy old codger with a kitten curled up in my lap. What’s a grouch supposed to do? My childhood was filled with cats, dogs, cows, pigs, chickens, goldfish, ...

Curmudgeon club will pad your obituary

I need to start padding my obituary. Otherwise, it’s going to read, “Who?” I’ve taken to glancing at obituaries lately and noticed that every last one of them is for a wonderful person who was loved by all. I tried being wonderful once but it was exhausting. I gave it up after three ...

Marital ESP fades slowly into the sunset

Terry looked thoughtful. “Is there a side road that I can take to get there?” “Oh, sure,” I said. “Six or seven of them.” “Which one would you take?” “That depends. ... Where might you be going?” She had done it again. She had dropped me into the middle of her internal ...

Keep the high-tech away from my low-flow toilet

Enough! Not even our bathrooms serve as refuges from technology invasion anymore. I quivered and quaked enough when I read an article a couple weeks back about high-tech homes. No, I’m not opposed to carpets that vacuum themselves. That’s neighborly technology. I understand the ...

I’ve decided to bulk up on fitness for fat health

My doctor talks dirty. If words like “diet” and “exercise” aren’t profanity, then I don’t know what are. Trouble is, I’m beginning to suspect that she might be right. When I was in my teens, people shoved food at me out of fear that a mild gust would blow me away. I gobbled ...

Fountain of pens lies drying, dying

Editor’s note: Because of a family emergency, we present this Cole Classic, excerpted from April 2, 2000. Burt will be back with fresh adventures next week. I dug furiously through the desk drawer trying to find a working pen. One after another, I tossed dried out and chewed up pens back ...

‘Writer Boy Burt’ would make a boring action figure

Sgt. G.I. Joe crept through the weeds in his black scuba gear and rubber flippers. He ducked as the Hot Wheels car full of bad guys jumped the green sand bucket. With his perpetually frozen fingers, G.I. Joe signaled Chief Cherokee and Johnny West, who waited in shrubs on the other side of ...

Science says guys lacking in senses of smell, hearing

She crossed her arms and wrinkled her nose. “Can you not smell THAT?” I reached for the remote and pushed mute. “What?” “That T-shirt you’re wearing.” “Old faithful? What about it?” She narrowed her eyes and coughed. “You heard me.” I shook my head. “You talk too ...

The price just went up on buying happiness

The price of happiness has gone up. Now it costs $95,000 a year. But be careful. Haul in more than $95,000 and you'll be just as miserable as the guy getting $20,000, but in a nicer car. That's the word from the financial planners at LearnVest, whose researchers crunched the numbers for the ...

Suffer as if living each day by distorted wise words

“Live each day as if it was your last,” the sage said. So I called off work. If I knew these were my last 24 hours on Earth, there’s no way I’d squander eight or 10 of them chained to a desk. With work out of the way, I hustled to a breakfast buffet and poured a gallon of sausage ...

Romance, thy name certainly is not Burt

Does any span of the calendar crush more spirits than Valentine’s week? Oh, sure, it’s meant to be a warm, fuzzy celebration filled with hearts, diamonds, balloons and roses. But for guys like me — the clueless kind — it’s just another painful taunting of romantic ...

Blame the oatmeal for eroding reading skills

Oatmeal is killing literacy. That’s my theory based on extensive breakfast research conducted at my house. I have reached that certain age when metabolism takes lots of naps and my body sounds like a Rice Krispies concert when I wake up. Snap, crackle, pop, groan. No longer can I wolf down ...

Reluctant adult packs up to run away from home

How old is too old to run away from home? I already slapped together peanut butter and strawberry jelly sandwiches. I stashed a few comic books in my knapsack. I pulled the blanket off my bed. I'm ready to go. Who knew this being an adult stuff was so wearying? OK, Mom and Dad said so. I ...

Strong, silent type shortens prospects of a long life

There was a time when I believed talking would kill me. True, my mouth has almost gotten me clobbered more than once. He who smarts off learns to duck quickly. No, I’m talking about the little-boy logic that drove 8-year-old me into become the strong, silent type. I’d run out of comic ...

Taste-deaf husband tries to hear wife

I remember years ago slicing a banana into my bowl of CoCo Wheats. My 9-year-old daughter, drenching her waffles in syrup, wrinkled her nose. “Ew. That’s gross.” With all the sophistication of a then-35-year-old man eating children’s cereal, I replied, “Waffles are gross. Bananas in ...