New Humor

Daily Journal: October 9, 1999

Posted By clifhaley 12 days ago on Humor - God I hate Ryan! The first thing I’m going to do when the band makes it big is kill him. I’m sooooo sick of the way he looks at me and transmits via telepathic rays “You’re just a big ol’ baby! Baby wanna go poo, poo? Baby wanna ride the magic Wheelbarrow of Happiness to The Land of Happy Happy Bouncy Shiny Things? Baby wanna DIE!” He acts like he’s not doing it, but I know he is. I mean, when I see him he’s all “Hey dude, what’s up?” but his eyes are saying “Hey you big fat baby, where’s your big fat pacifier, dumbhead?!” I don’t know…maybe it’s just me.
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Daily Journal: February 2, 2000

Posted By clifhaley 14 days ago on Humor - I checked out this great band last night called WarehouseLarry. They sounded like a rocket powered freight train full of Black Sabbath crashing into a nuclear power plant at the speed of light. Awesome show. If I ever start another band I’m going to call it WarehouseHarry, and we’re going to play songs that sound exactly like WarehouseLarry’s but have different words that say pretty much the same thing. for instance: WarehouseLARRY has a song called “I Love You Baby” but WarehouseHARRY will have a song called “You Know, I Really Like You a Lot, I Mean, No, Really I Do, It’s Just That I’m in a Really Weird Place Right Now (Hey, Where You Going?)” I think that would be cool. Something else I think would be cool are shoes that look like feet. Or maybe just tiny, individual shoes for each toe. Damn, those are both pretty cool.
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Daily Journal: March 25, 2001

Posted By clifhaley 16 days ago on Humor - I met this great girl at the strip club the other night. She’s just like mom except for the stripping and the cocaine and bi-sexuality and the piercings and the mustache and the “big time debt” from the “operation” that she won’t tell me about. she gave me her phone number for ten bucks (what a flirt!), but I must have written it down wrong, because every time I call it I get Fong Wu’s Chinese Bistro. We really hit it off, though. She sat on my lap and asked me what my hobbies were and (get ready for this!) she ALSO likes building ships in bottles and covering them with rare, misprinted stamps from countries that no longer exist! I mean, what are the odds of that?! I bought her a ring today. Nothing fancy, just a two karat diamond set in a platinum band. Guess that whole “higher education” thing is going to have to wait a little bit! Ah, love. It’s a wonderful thing.
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Daily Journal: April 15, 2000

Posted By clifhaley 17 days ago on Humor - Well, it’s official: I like corn. It’s taken me years to do it, but I can honestly say now that I like corn. Corn on the cob. Creamed corn. Whole kernel corn. I don’t know why I didn’t like corn for so long. It’s sort of sad, really. All those years I’ve missed enjoying corn. I’ll never get those years back. And to think there are people out there, lost people, who STILL don’t like corn! Maybe I’ll rent a corn shaped suit and hand out pamphlets praising the glory of corn tomorrow. Nah, I think I’ll just sit home, watch some TV, and partake in a little bit of corn eatin’!
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2022 Father’s Day Gift Guide

Posted By clifhaley 22 days ago on Humor - It’s that time of year again. That time of year when everyone but fathers remember that Father’s Day is coming up. Fathers generally don’t think about Father’s Day because they have so many other pressing concerns on their minds such as trying not to forget Mother’s Day, although it’s now June and Mother’s Day was LAST month I’ve just now learned while researching this article. No wonder my wife has been giving my son and me the cold shoulder, by which I mean we haven’t heard from her since she sped off in the car sobbing weeks ago.
At any rate, even though Father’s Day isn’t generally “top of mind” or “on the radar” for most fathers, they do, nonetheless, “love getting” free things from “just about” anyone, especially useful things like pocket knives, roofing joists, or flamethrowers. This year, with the COVID-19 (or is it Monkeypox?) pandemic mellowing out or raging depending on which news website you read, we find ourselves in interesting times, and interesting times call for interesting Father’s Day gifts. Here are my 2021 picks for Father’s Day gifts in a COVID-19 world, chosen solely based upon the fact that I want them.
80 Hour Horizontal Candle
It’s widely known that former United States president Abraham Lincoln grew up in a simple log cabin, where he read by candlelight. There has never been a better endorsement for reading by candlelight, and with this 80 hour horizontal candle you’ll be able to read so much you might just be an ast……..
3 in 1 Mango Slicer, Peeler and Pit Remover
Have you ever tried peeling a mango? If you have, then reading that sentence probably sent you spiraling into a fit of rage because mangos are a pain in the ass to peel. They are also disgusting inside. Sure, they taste great (just like mango) but they’re so slimy and sticky that peeling a single mango can often leave you covered head to toe in tacky, orange glop attracting flies from miles away. This is why you should never try to peel a mango on public transportation.
Cutting a mango is no easy feat, either. Being so slick, any attempt to slice one usually results in the knife slipping forcefully off the side of the mango causing the mango to shoot off across the room until it lodges itself in sheet rock, because it also still contains a hard pit which is about the size of a golf ball but as dense as a neutron star. This is another reason why you should never bother bringing mangos on public transportation.
Thankfully, now there is a 3 in 1 mango peeler, slicer and pit remover making preparing and consuming mangos on the subway safer than ever! It’s also good at removing gallstones.
You know what really makes a Father happier than anything else in the world? His child’s bright smile? His spouse’s caring attentiveness?  Nope. It’s cured meats.
Butt Face Soap
What father isn’t tired of having to use two bars of soap in the shower? One for his butt and another for his face. This is a bar of face soap with the word “BUTT” printed on it. There is really nothing more I can say here to show how clearly awesome this is. Let’s move on.
Canned Wi-Fi
Desktop Drum Set
Hand Grip Strengthener

Hint, hint.

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7 Sound Financial Tips Anyone Can Probably Read

Posted By clifhaley 27 days ago on Humor - According to several major news outlets, the economy is in a truly terrible state. Of course, no matter what the state of the economy is, major news outlets always tell us it’s in a truly terrible state.¹ We could all be reading this on gold-plated iPads while man servants clip our toenails and major news […]
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I’ve Just Been Added as a MuddyUm Humor Writer. The Fools!

Posted By clifhaley 28 days ago on Humor - Despite not being funny at all, I have just been added to MuddyUm’s roster of humor writers. The fools! They fell for my ruse!
As evidence of my complete lack of comedic ability, please see this typical example of a joke I might tell:
ME: Knock, knock.
YOU: Who’s there.
ME: Someone unexpected. Perhaps the Pope.
YOU: Okay.
Yet, though being less whimsical than a congressional hearing, I am now a MuddyUm writer. How did I accomplish such a feat, you ask?
If you’d like to keep reading, check out the full article on the MuddyUm humor publication at!
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Thrimbal Scrumpwiffle and the Toad Squash Gourds

Posted By clifhaley 40 days ago on Humor - In a tree by a brook is where Thrimbal Scrumpwiffle the Forest Imp lived. He lived peacefully, unmolested by beasts or kingsmen. He lived happy days, catching tadpoles and water skimmers and, through very little effort, making friends of them all. Thrimbal, you see, was known by few, but beloved by almost all whom he encountered, for he was a simple soul who sought only friendship. But, if you were to cross Thrimbal, to disturb his generally mild but easily upset temper, he would become very angry. Very angry indeed. And this, I’m afraid, is where our story of Thrimbal begins.
“What the f**k did you just say to me?!” Thrimbal shouted. “Listen, you little punk b*tch, I’ve just about had it with your bullsh*t!”
Simpwhim took a nervous step back. “I-I’m sorry, Thrimbal. Please, f-forgive me. I am but a tiny Moss Gnome of the Gilded Swamps of — ”
“Shut your f**king face!” Thrimbal snapped, slicing through the air with his razor sharp dagger just inches from Simpwhim’s nose. “Now, I’ll ask you one last time. Was it you who trod upon my Brownie Flowers and Summermint Blossoms?!”
Simpwhim could feign innocence no more. Hanging his head, he whimpered, “Yes, Thrimbal. It was me. I didn’t admit it before because — ”
Thrimbal slapped the Moss Gnome swiftly across the face. “Because you’re a b*tch,” he stated matter-of-factly. “Now get the f**k off my property and tomorrow, before the noon hour, bring me a bushel of Toad Squash Gourds as recompense, or I’ll gut you.”
“Yes. Yes, I shall,” Simpwhim said, then darted away, leaving a faint aroma of the urine he’d besmirched his breeches with hanging in the air.
“Oh, Whisperton, what am I to do with my Brownie Flowers and Summermint Blossoms now?” Thrimbal said, turning to his dear Zephyr Fairy friend who now hovered by his head, having heard the commotion and come to investigate.
“Not know,” Whisperton the Zephyr Fairy squeaked. “Ruined they be.”
Thrimbal sighed. “Yes. I do suppose so. Let’s go befriend yon tadpoles and water skimmers!”
“Huzzah!” Wisperton piped, and off they bounded toward the Reedwood Pond, tadpole treats and water skimmer nectar in hand.
The following day Thrimbal was quite pleased to see that Simpwhim had brought not just one, but two, bushels of Toad Squash Gourds. “Oh, Simpwhim, you have pleased me so!” he shouted. “Your guts you shall most assuredly keep within you.”
And thus it was that young Thrimbal Scrumpwiffle the Forest Imp ended up with a total sh*tload of Toad Squash Gourds.
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Posted By clifhaley 50 days ago on Humor - To say their description of me under my photo in the newspaper back then was unflattering is to put it mildly:

His face was cursed by an ever-rupturing landscape of dire acne-ism; his cheeks slick with the discharge of pustules at all times.

This has nothing to do with the fact that I’d come in first place in the state high school ping-pong finals, which the article was actually about. The photo under which this caption is placed is of me proudly holding aloft my 1st place ribbon!
The headline had rather innocuously read:

Local High Schooler Wins 1st Place at State Ping-Pong Finals

And yet the very first line of the article is:

Tim Hawthorne (15), a malodorous local troglodyte, has thwarted its competition at a ping-pong tourney this past week’s end, despite suffering gravely from rectal scabies and head lice.

Lies! Does that seem fair to you? Even all these years later (I’m 48 now!) I find it hard to forget the cruelty of those words. And also these words from the very same opening paragraph:

His, parents, quite clearly drunk, were overjoyed to see their cognitively degraded genetic mistake prove victorious. They declined to be interviewed, however, citing an urgent need to “shoot meth into our eyeballs behind the Porta-Potties.”

None of this is true! My parents have not once done meth! They don’t even drink! And it goes on like this for 573 words on the front page of the newspaper, concluding with:

It should be noted, and hopefully appreciated, that it is indeed no small miracle this reporter was able to attend the sporting match considering her own son, Thad Stone (14) — who, himself, aspired to be on the ping-pong team — was unable to participate, having been displaced at tryouts by none other than the nit-infested Tim Hawthorne, who managed to win even while being covered with weeping lesions from countless sexually transmitted diseases.

I wish I could understand the reporter’s motive for maligning me so. I’ve reached out to the newspaper several times over the years, and no one there can ever provide me satisfactory answers. It shall, I suppose, remain a sad mystery forever.
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Tim Hawthorne: State Finals Ping-Pong Champion

Posted By clifhaley 52 days ago on Humor - To say their description of me under my photo in the newspaper back then was unflattering is to put it mildly: His face was cursed by an ever-rupturing landscape of dire acne-ism; his cheeks slick with the discharge of pustules at all times. This has nothing to do with the fact that I’d come in […]
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