Other than husbandese, I do not speak a foreign language. (I hadn’t considered husbandese a foreign language until I saw the consternation that crossed my wife’s face whenever I tried to explain a simple concept — such as how my socks ended up next to cheese in the refrigerator.) I ...
Editor’s note: Cole, a known goof-off, is on vacation. From what, we’re not sure. But he claims he’ll come back with all sorts of fresh column ideas. We’ll see. Until then, enjoy this Cole Classic originally published May 14, 2006. I believe in ghosts. What else could explain how so many of my things disappear, then turn up in the very places I already looked? Friends have suggested some wild theories, but their ideas hold no merit. And I can’t believe that, as friends, they would suggest such things about my age and the state of my mind. I never used to lose things. I ...
My whole career revolves around playing with words. Wordplay is a time-honored tradition honed by such smiths as William Shakespeare, P.J. Wodehouse, Lewis Carroll, A.A. Milne and Vince Rozmiarek. The first four of those guys are famous authors. That fifth one — Rozmiarek — is a volunteer at the Indian Hills, Colo., Community Center. And his work has been gaining lots of national attention. He’s the guy who’s been lettering the community center sign with gems such as these: “I was struck by a bottle of Omega 3 pills. Luckily, my wounds were only super fish oil.” “I ...
Ah, September, that fantastic month. And there are more reasons to celebrate than the average calendar tells you. For one, September is my birthday month, but the only calendar I’ve seen that written on is the one on my mom’s refrigerator. What else makes September great? Here’s a sampling of just a few of the quirkier commemorations found only on those calendars of oddities: • Today, Teddy Bear Day — Garfield has Pooky. Christopher Robin has Pooh. Kermit has Fozzie. Grab your snuggly and join the teddy bear parade. I hear Paddington will be there. It’s also ...
As melting butter soaked into the warm softness, I gazed into my wife’s eyes and cooed, “These biscuits are marvelous.” “Rolls,” she said. “They’re dinner rolls.” “Mmbbglpleooomp,” I said as I chewed on either a biscuit or a roll or whatever. She pushed away from the ...
There’s an old, battered recipe box on my desk. It’s crammed with index cards, torn strips of newspaper and scraps of scribbled paper. These are odd thoughts I’ve scrawled in the middle of the night and silly stories that tickled my funny bone. When I’m running low on laughs, I ...
