Author Archives: epjenkins

Bad Pun Wednesday: A Vet Story

A man runs into the vet’s office carrying his dog, screaming for help. The vet rushes him back to an examination room and has him put his dog down on the examination table. The vet examines the still, limp body and after a few moments, tells the man that his dog, regrettably, is dead. The man, clearly agitated and not willing to accept this, demands a second opinion.

The vet goes into the back room and comes out with a cat and puts the cat down next to the dog’s body. The cat sniffs the body, walks from head to tail, poking and sniffing the dog’s body and finally looks at the vet and meows. The vet looks at the man and says, “I’m sorry, but the cat thinks that your dog is dead, too.”

The man is still unwilling to accept that his dog is dead. So the vet brings in a black lab, the lab sniffs the body, walks from head to tail, and finally looks at the vet and barks. The vet looks at the man and says, “I’m sorry, but the lab thinks your dog is dead too.”

The man, finally resigned to the diagnosis, thanks the vet and asks how much he owes. The vet answers, “$650.” “$650 to tell me my dog is dead?” exclaims the man. “Well,” the vet replies, “I would only have charged you $50 for my initial diagnosis. The additional $600 was for the cat scan and lab tests.”

Your Political Opinion and Other Crap I Don’t Care About

Hey, guess what happens every four years?  Well, besides the Summer Olympics.

We elect another President.

Ever since we started posting pictures of our pets and Waffle House meals on social media, some of us decided that when it comes to all political stuff, that we are entitled to Your opinion.

On behalf of many of us out there, let me just say this:

“We do not care about your political opinions.”

No. Really.

If political posts were more along the lines of “Hey, this is what I think and why I think it” or “I am voting for so-and-so because of X-Y&Z.” and we could all respond nicely, I would have no problem with y’all. But we can’t.

See, I have my opinions. Your hateful comment and meme are not going to change my mind.  I say hateful, because there ain’t many positive political memes or comments I see out there on the Interwebs.

Now, I know you some of you just feel the need to change our minds with a link to an article or column that backs up your ideas or candidate. Or a photo of the candidate or candidates you don’t like in a photoshopped image with a goat. But really, what are you accomplishing?

Just so you get an idea of where your political opinion ranks on my list of things to care about, let me give you this list of other stuff I don’t care about that is on the same level as your political opinions:

  • Anything Kardashian
  • The Cleveland Browns
  • The Dave Matthews Band
  • The JC Penny Women’s Spring Line
  • Geraldo Rivera
  • Gluten free…anything.
  • The 5th dentist in those Trident commercials
  • Donny Osmond
  • Florida-Georgia Line and all current country music
  • The U.N.
  • The gross annual GNP of Trinidad & Tobago
  • What your baby did today
  • Why you like Greek yogurt better than regular yogurt
  • What is in a hot dog and why it is bad for me
  • What you dreamed about last night
  • Kanye West
  • Etsy
  • The Royal Family
  • Your cat or cats in general
  • Craft beer
  • Imported water
  • Anything edible that is called “cuisine”
  • Canned asparagus
  • How you do things “Up North”
  • Kathy Lee (Hoda is cool)
  • The Thigh Master
  • The Arizona Diamondbacks
  • John Stamos
  • Bravo Channel
  • Any of my ex-mother-in-laws
  • Your political opinion

Notice where your political opinion ended up?

I end this post with a meme.




From Across A Crowded Room…


A man was eating in a fancy restaurant, and there was a gorgeous woman eating at the next table. He had been checking her out all night, but lacked the nerve to go talk to her.

Suddenly she sneezed and her glass eye went flying out of her socket towards the man. With his quick reflexes, he caught it in mid-air.

“Oh my goodness, I’m sooooo sorry,” the woman said as she popped her eye back into its socket. “Let me buy you dinner to make it up to you.”

They enjoyed a wonderful dinner together and afterwards the woman offered to drive him home. “But it’s over an hour out of your way,” the man said. “Are you sure you don’t mind?”

“Not at all,” she said. “I’m looking forward to it.”

The guy was amazed and flattered. “You know, you’re the perfect woman,” he said. “Are you this nice to every guy you meet?”

“No,” she replied, “you just happened to catch my eye!”

A cereal-sly bad pun

I live near a small town and farming community, and the following event happened to a friend of mine, a farmer named Ken Kellog.

Ken raises sheep, and he has this surly, unpredictable ram which boldly tries to escape the pasture at any opportunity. He also has quite a temper (the ram, not Ken).

A bunch of ravens had their nests near by — about twenty ravens in all. Ten ravens make up a swoop, just like more than four sheep are a flock, etc. Anyways, these ravens loved to harass the ram. They’d fly down into the field and caw at him until he charged at them. Then they’d all fly upward, and the ram would crash into the fence. Once, though, one of the ravens didn’t get out of the way in time, and he was crushed against the fencepost. The others decided to get revenge.

When Farmer Kellog came out to check on his sheep one day, he forgot to lock the gate properly. The ravens, working together, pushed it open, and lured the ram out into the hayfield. They flew towards the hay bailing machine, the ram bleating furiously all the way. At the last moment, the ravens pulled up — and the ram ran straight into the bailer.

He came out the other side in a mangled package.

Twenty big black birds came to perch upon him, satisfied, leaving the farmer with…. two swoops of ravens on a package of Kellog’s brazen ram.

Where I was

I got put in jail for Christmas.

It wasn’t anything I wanted, believe me.  But, when you have had enough, you have had enough and sometimes you got to act.

See, on Christmas Eve, momma was cooking Christmas dinner and needed another box of Jiffy Corn Muffin mix for the corn casserole because she used the last box for the corn casserole on Thanksgiving.

So I go out and get into the automotive perfection that is the Love Turtle.  The Love Turtle is my mint condition 1981 AMC Pacer.  Its painted  baboon-butt red with flames down the side. Yeah, its pretty sweet and it ain’t for sale.

Anywho, I drove over to the Piggly Wiggly to get some Jiffy Corn Muffin mix for momma’s corn casserole.  I wasn’t wanting no trouble.

But there this dude was. He was one of those bell ringers.  Now, I know the money goes to help folks. I do.  But, they need to rethink their marketing approach.  Ringing a bell, CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG CLANG is fine the first couple of times, but starts to get on my nerves after the fourth or fifth week.

But this fella ringing the bell outside the Piggly Wiggly crossed the line from bell ringing to something obscene.

I ain’t no angel.  I gotta tell you that, but this man was doing this in front of women, children and impressionable pets.  He was ringing and singing a medley of Justin Bieber songs.

I must have blacked out because the next thing I know, I am being cuffed and stuffed and taken to the county lock-up.  According to some who witnessed the event, it was reported that somewhere during the chorus of “Baby, Baby” I allegedly lost it. Apparently, he had to have the bell surgically removed.

I have no clear recollection. That’s what my lawyer, Lowber Wilcox says to say anyway.

Lowber is a good lawyer, because his picture is on the back of the phone book.  I bet they don’t let just any lawyer put their face on the back of a phone book.  He says he can probably get me off with some community service and a fine.

You meet some real interesting people in jail.  I met a guy named Rufus who was in jail because he has a real interest in home chemistry.  Rufus’ hobbies also included shaking like a dog trying to pass a pine cone, not sleeping, and losing his teeth.

There was a guy named Jackson waiting in the jail there before he went to Federal court because he appreciated art.   Art that looks like twenty dollar bills. He was making his own.

Then there was a guy in there from a motorcycle gang, and he made quite an impression on us. He impressed on us to give him our desserts, tobacco products, and pretty much anything else he wanted.  And we were glad to do it, because Mr. Bonecrusher was a fine gentleman and only beat on us when we had it coming.  You know, like when our shadow would touch his shadow and for breathing the same air. All very good reasons for mopping the floors with our faces.

And I am certain that there is no way that Mr. Bonecrusher could have chopped up an entire family and set their house on fire.

And Mr. Bonecrusher, if you are reading this and are upset in anyway, my actual real name is Lute Fenwick.

The Dog and The Driver


Once upon a time, there were 2 brothers, Simon and Garth Brown.

They had a dog called Walter, and they loved to take the dog Walter to their Uncle Charlie’s mansion at the edge of town.

But one day, as they arrived at the mansion, they were suprised to find that the gates were locked and they couldn’t get in.

Fortunately, just then, Uncle Charlie’s tall chauffeur appeared at the mansion door and began walking toward the trio at the gates.

However, the dog Walter took a sudden dislike to the tall chauffeur, and began barking and growling, making a huge noise.

Neighbors leaned out of the windows of their mansions (the dog really was making a lot of noise) and asked what the hubbub was, and one of the neighbors replied:

“Simon and Garth’s uncle’s big chauffeur’s troubled Walter.”

Beethoven’s Ninth


The symphony orchestra was performing Beethoven’s Ninth. In the piece, there’s a long passage, about 20 minutes, during which the bass violinists have nothing to do. Rather than sit around that whole time looking stupid, some bassists decided to sneak offstage and go to the tavern next door for a quick one.

After slamming several beers in quick succession, one of them looked at his watch and said, “Hey! We need to get back!”

“No need to panic,” said a fellow bassist. “I thought we might need some extra time, so I tied the last few pages of the conductor’s score together with string. It’ll take him a few minutes to get it untangled.”

A few moments later they staggered back to the concert hall and took their places in the orchestra. About this time, a member of the audience noticed the conductor seemed a bit edgy and said as much to her companion.

“Well, of course,” said her companion. “Don’t you see? It’s the bottom of the Ninth, the score is tied, and the bassists are loaded.

Doc’s Daquari


A doctor made it his regular habit to stop off at a bar for a hazelnut daiquiri on his way home.

The bartender knew of his habit, and would always have the drink waiting at precisely 5:03 p. m.

One afternoon, as the end of the work day approached, the bartender was dismayed to find that he was out of hazelnut extract. Thinking quickly, he threw together a daiquiri made with hickory nuts and set it on the bar.

The doctor came in at his regular time, took one sip of the drink and exclaimed, “This isn’t a hazelnut daiquiri!”

“No, I’m sorry”, replied the bartender, “it’s a hickory daiquiri, doc.”

A Visit From Lute Fenwick – A Trailer Park Christmas Poem


T’was a few days before Christmas and I was sittin’ in my trailer
I was eatin’ some cheese dip. It was the white kind, not yeller

I had just returned back home from a trip to the store
I ran out of corn chips and beer, and I needed some more

Scooter, my coondog, was curled up an snoozin’
He snores like my granny does when she does too much boozin’

Me in my gym shorts and stained wife-beater
Had just sat down to watch an episode of Cheaters

When outside the trailer, there was some terrible fuss
I jumped out of the recliner to see what it was

And what do you think it was I would see?
Why it was old Luke Fenwick running from some deputies

Luke was really haulin’ it, he always was a good streaker
I mean he wern’t wearnin’ nothing but a smile and his sneakers

And I was thinkin’, ‘He shouldn’t be doing this, Luke is too old’
Besides he was nekkid…and you could tell it was cold.

He was lively and quick, a really jolly old drunk
Till he slipped over a ice patch and fell down – ‘kerplunk!’

The deputies was all over him just like that
Like a pack of dogs on a three-legged cat

You might think it was the end of Luke’s game
But he got all P-O’d and called the deputies names

“Hey bonehead! Hey loser! Yer all dumb as a log!”
I could tell you more of what he said, but this is a family blog

The lawmen there made sure Luke was cuffed
Then they took him to the car, in the backseat he was stuffed

As they drove off with Luke, I could just hear him say:
“I’ll be back! Nekkid again on New Year’s Day!”