A bad pun

For about 45 years, my grandfather rented welding equipment. This included arc welders which had either 4 or 6 cylinder gasoline engines hooked onto generators to create the heat needed for making a weld. They were portable; they could be towed behind a car or truck from job to job on tires similar to what you find on cars and small trucks. You've probably seen them and mistaken them for air compressors.

One day my Uncle John was towing one of them back to grandpa's shop. He had just noticed a vibration when his pickup ground to a halt. A wheel bearing had gone bad and a tire came off the axle of the welder. This made the machine drop to one side and act as an anchor, which stopped the truck quickly and suddenly. Uncle John looked in the rear view mirror, helplessly watching the disconnected tire bounce across 4 lanes of traffic until it slammed against a parked car, severely damaging it. He knew he would have to go find the owner and do what he could to get the guy's car fixed.

About then the owner ran from his house waving his arms and vigorously exercising his vocal cords, obviously and understandably upset at the incident. But all Zeke could think was, "You picked a fine time to leave me loose wheel."

Good, huh?

Umpire Steak

Me Uncle John sometimes called Zeke, me old golf buddy from back in the day, had his own special form of humor. When he got on a roll I would laugh until I cried.

He had this story where he and another driver for Grandpa Joe, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, were racing south on Interstate 75, each with a truckload of welding machines, weaving in and out of traffic trying to best each other, to get to their destination first, recklessly tearin' up jack, all the while being trailed by an undertaker in anticipation of business. That was one hilarious tale. I wish I could recreate me Uncle's style when he was on his game. He could make you laugh until you hurt. Really. But I can't recreate it, so I won't even attempt that. I will, however, tell you one of his favorite, more droll jokes.

There was at one time, there probably still is I would assume, a school in Florida ran by MLB which trained its on field baseball officials. Uncle John used to say that if he had the money he would open up a restaurant directly across the street from the place. It would specialize in beef entrees. He would name his restaurant...

...wait for it...

...the Umpire Steak Building.

I have always liked that quip. Thanks Zeke.

Uncle Jokes

Me Uncle John, me old golf buddy from back in the day, had his own special form of humor. When he got on a roll I would laugh until I cried.

He had this story where he and another driver for Grandpa Joe, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, were racing south on Interstate 75, each with a truckload of welding machines, weaving in and out of lanes trying to best each other, to get to their destination first, recklessly tearin' up jack, all the while being trailed by an undertaker in anticipation of business. That was one hilarious tale. I wish I could recreate me Uncle's style when he was on his game. But I can't, so I won't even attempt that. I will, however, tell you one of his favorite, more droll jokes.

There was at one time, there probably still is I would assume, a school in Florida ran by MLB which trained its on field baseball officials. Uncle John used to say that if he had the money he would open up a restaurant directly across the street from the school. It would specialize in beef entrees. He would name the restaurant...

...wait for it...

...the Umpire Steak Building.

I have always liked that quip. Thanks Zeke. 

A typical uncle joke

Me Uncle John, me old golf buddy from back in the day, had his own special form of humor. When he got on a roll I would laugh until I cried.

He had this story where he and another driver for Grandpa Joe, I'll call him Cloyce just to give him a name, were racing south on Interstate 75, each with a truckload of welding machines, weaving in and out of lanes trying to best each other, to get to their destination first, recklessly tearin' up jack, all the while being trailed by an undertaker in anticipation of business. That was one hilarious tale. I wish I could recreate me Uncle's style when he was on his game. But I can't, so I won't even attempt that. I will, however, tell you one of his favorite, more droll jokes.

There was at one time, there probably still is I would assume, a school in Florida ran by MLB which trained its on field baseball officials. Uncle John used to say that if he had the money he would open up a restaurant directly across the street from the school. It would specialize in beef entrees. He would name the restaurant...

...wait for it...

...the Umpire Steak Building.

I have always liked that quip. Thanks Zeke.

The real Frito Bandito

It's probably not PC to revere supposedly stereotypical characters, but, well, the hell with that. I do and I will, depending on the character.

Fifty some years ago Fritos corn chips had an advertising campaign based around the Frito Bandito. It was an obviously Mexican character. Yet that is not what brings the subject to my mind this morning. What did that was the memory of one of my uncles convincing me that he was the model for the Frito Bandito.

He didn't fit the stereotype. But his argument was that, as a youth during school lunches, he ate so many Fritos that everyone began calling him the Frito Bandito. From there, someone in the chip business caught on and developed the cartoon version. Sure, I was a kid, and in typical uncle joke fashion he convinced me of the tale. He was very emphatic and certain about it indeed.

So my uncle was the model, sort of, for the Frito Bandito. If that offends you, deal with it, because it was, is, and always will be simply a harmless tale, one I will always remember fondly.

Cornball humor

I have to confess, in fact I quite cheerfully admit, that my sense of humor is sometimes subtle and goofball. Do you care for some examples? You don't, I'm sure, but I'll offer them anyway.
I drive a lot for my job so I see many signs for many things. Most are ads, but some are for various attractions and activities. Some of course are just plain old road signs. Take for instance, as my son and I were driving to Boston in summer 2016. As we approached an overpass a yellow sign warned us, Bridge may be icy. And I thought, faux incredulously, what, today?
Many of the recreation signs indicate that after a turn and a mile or two you'll find Rolling Hills golf club or some such. I always think, so I'll go that way and find a five iron on the highway?
At times my internal jokes get borderline crass. Not that that stops me from internally making them, mind you. All around Michigan at one time were billboards which asserted that 1 in 5 children face hunger. I found myself thinking, so turn that kid around.
Yeah, I know. But you did have to choke back a snicker, didn't you?