The Occasional Joke

Nurse: Patient's name?

Centurion: Marcus Licinius Crassus

Nurse: And his date of birth?

Centurion: 115 BC.

Nurse: All right. And what is he here for?

Centurion: Cataphract surgery.

Wednesday, September 15, 2010

Senator Creek Addresses

The Chair recognizes the Senator from Michigan.

I should hope so. Hell, I've been sitting around here for the last two weeks, and I sure recognize you. You're that loudmouth with the hammer or whatever it is. Let me just ask you privately, what good is a wooden hammer?

Now, the young people who follow me around and tell me what to do assure me that this is my maiden speech before this body I find that strange. Been quite a while since I knew anything about maidens. Looking around me, I don't see all that many here. Maidens. Nor do I see many others who might have had any commerce with maidens anytime recent. Maidens are in somewhat short supply, both in my constituency and in my experience. I knew a maiden once, back in Michigan. In the non-biblical sense of the word.

And I have to point out, that's the only way you can use that word. Michigan. Non-biblical. The word Michigan does not appear in the Bible. No, sir. I have been through the Bible, cover to cover, both the hard bound and paperback versions. Both the King Louis and the Prince Albert editions. And Michigan does not appear. Which is odd. Tennessee certainly does. And there are repeated allusions to Texas. Especially in Leviticus. But no Michigan. You would think there would have been something. "And God created Michigan on the twenty-eighth day, in the image of Ontario," or something like that. But no. Probably an oversight.

I want this group here to take note that Leviticus is an important thing, an ailment or more precisely a part of the human body where an ailment can take root and fester. I have suffered for many years from a pain in my Leviticus, as have many of the people who voted for me. And yet the congress of the United States has never taken up a Leviticus and examined it, at least insofar as the record shows. I feel that it is crucial to the security of the union that we expose the Leviticus to the scrutiny and ... exposure that it deserves and that the people of Michigan deserve so richly.

And so, to build on that thought, it is my intention to introduce a bill. A bill for four hundred and thirty-six dollars. This will just about cover the cost of having my Leviticus lanced. And it will provide for a federal home for maidens, in my constituency. I anticipate that administration of this home will come under the aegis of The Secretary of Commerce ... the better to deal with commerce with maidens.

Parenthetically, I should add that the aegis is a smaller part of the body, somewhat to the left of the Leviticus.

Once we have assembled sufficient maidens ... making use of the many idle assembly facilities in my great state ... we will institute a program which will put them to work ... the maidens ... rewriting the Bible, so as to ensure that every State has its proper representation therein. And with the publication of this new version, it will no longer be necessary for any member of this body to stand here before you and admit that it is impossible for him to know his constituency in the biblical sense.

And I yield the rest of my time to the Senator from France.

Tuesday, September 14, 2010

Mr. Creek Runs

Ladies and Gentlemen, please welcome the next United States Senator from Michigan's Fifteenth District ... Mr. Elijah Creek!

HELLOOOO! CAN YOU HEAR ME? What's that, sonny? Are you sure? If you say so.

They tell me I can just talk into this thing here ... don't have to shout to make you hear me. Pity. I enjoy shouting. Always have. I used to say to my wife, "HELLOOO! CAN YOU HEAR ME?" And she'd say, "You damned old fool, I'm right here beside you!" And she usually was. In fact, there she is now. CAN YOU HEAR ME?

When I'm elected, I promise to shout on your behalf. I'll go to Washington and shout at Washington for you, so you don't have to. Now, I know my opponent will say, "You damned old fool, Washington's dead!" But do you know that for sure? I haven't seen any reports about that. Him and his cherry tree.

Just the other day, I was wandering around this great state of ours, looking for things to be appalled at. That's kind of a hobby of mine, wandering and being appalled. Stems from a childhood accident, but they tell me the less said about that, the better. My childhood or the accident, either one. After a while, I started to notice a lot of signs, a lot of downright discriminatory signs ... signs of discrimination, you might say, although I just did, so no particular reason for you to, I suppose. But it led me to ask a very fundamental question of myself and several passerby ... just who is this Dutchman, Van Accessible, and why does he get all those reserved parking spaces?

Well sir, when the Officer couldn't find anything on me I didn't have a prescription for, he took the handcuffs off, and I went about my business. Which they're reminding me to say is your business ... my business is your business ... or your business is my business? What about that feller they collared at the airport the other day, with Capuchins stuffed down his pants? If he's a voter, does that mean monkey business is my business? I hope not ... don't like monkeys much. They bite, especially if they're stuffed down your pants. Take it from me.

Some young wiseacre with a notebook asked me the other day about foreign policy. Don't know why. If some foreigner wants to have a policy, I don't see where you and I come into it. None of our business. Most of the foreign people I've met seem to come from other countries, anyway. And far as domestic policy goes, seems like a pretty tame idea to me. If you're going to have a policy, a wild one sounds like more fun than a domestic one. Maybe I'm just old fashioned ... come to think of it, probably wouldn't dress like this if I weren't.

But anyway, let me leave you with this thought. If it comes down to a choice between voting for me or stuffing monkeys in your pants, go with what you know is right. Or what the voices say, anyway. You won't be wrong more than half the time, and neither will I.

Monday, September 13, 2010

Mr. Creek Remembers

Editorial note: the following transcript (and a couple more to come) are from the Creek Archive, at the University of Michigan's Creek Library, reprinted by permission of the Curator and Executrix, Amanda Lostwithiel Creek, CISSP.

Ladies and Gentlemen, please put your hands together for ... Mr. Elijah Creek!

Well, good evening. I'm happy to greet all my fellow members of ... the Veterans of Foreign ... affairs.

I don't know just how many of you there are out there ... literally. How about a show of hands. Everybody who's actually here, raise your hand. Hmmm ... nobody. Just as well. Easier that way. Don't have to be as funny.

You know, when I was a boy, we remembered things. You young folks today, you don't remember so much. I say to kids now, "DO YOU REMEMBER THE WAR?" and they say, "Sure we do." And I say, "WHICH ONE? I'M TALKING ABOUT THE WAR OF ... 1812!" And they say, "What? Were you in the war of 1812?" And I say, "HELL NO! BUT I REMEMBER IT."

Now that was a war. World War one and two ... pff ... what's that? Add 'em up, all you get is three. Now, war one thousand eight hundred and twelve, sir, that was a war. And think of all those other wars in between, war 1811 and war 1810 and all. Nobody remembers them. But 1812 ...

When I was a boy, we weren't so obsessed with all these gadgets and doo-rabbies and the Internut. The Internut. That's that bunch of connections and tubes and so on. Makes it easy for people to stay in touch, they tell me. Steal things, too. I tried to get on Facebook, but they took one look at my face, and they said "no!" ... I had to settle for ass book. They couldn't see that.

Anyway, when I was a boy, we weren't so obsessed with gadgetry ... we were obsessed with sex. And whiskey. And peanut butter. We used to have peanut butter parties. Get all peanut buttered up and go out and try to catch Indians. We'd sneak up on 'em. But they could smell the peanut butter on our breath. So they'd get away. Never did catch any. Probably just as well. And what would you do with an Indian, anyway, if you did catch one? Take him to the Indian Pound? Wait for somebody to adopt him?

Now I don't know how many of you out there are rightists. Leaners to the right, so to speak. Can I have a show of hands. If you're right handed, hold up your left hand.

When I was a boy, we didn't think much of left handed people ... lefters, we called 'em. We didn't think much of 'em 'cause we didn't know any. If you were a lefter, you pretty much stayed in the closet. It wasn't a very big closet ... sometimes somebody would come out. I knew one young feller decided to come out to his father. Walked right up to his old Pa and held out his left hand: "HELLO, PA!" he said. His dad turned him in to the Indian Pound.

Back then, we had foreign policy that really meant something. The President used to say, "Speak loudly and ... often," I think it was. Whack 'em with a stick if they weren't listening. And if all else failed ... which it did ... why, you'd take a ship and pack it full of resin and ... chicle ... and natural latex products. Send it off up their rivers ... called it gumboat diplomacy. Didn't work worth a damn, as I recall.

But you know, it's real important to remember things. It's important to remember what I'm tellin' you here tonight. Cause, if you don't, you won't be able to tell me about it later on, when I ask you what I was talkin' about. All you'll be able to say is that some old guy was talkin' about Indians and peanut butter and ... lefties. And I won't believe you.