“Apocalypse Hoboken”

Best entries in The Canonical List of Weird Band Names:

  • Alcoholocaust
  • The Ass Baboons of Venus
  • The Couch Slugs
  • The Dancing French Liberals of 1848
  • Dick Duck and the Dorks
  • Ed’s Redeeming Qualities
  • Ethyl Meatplow
  • Hell Camino
  • Individual Fruit Pie
  • Lavay Smith and The Red Hot Skillet Lickers
  • Lawnsmell
  • Mussolini Headkick
  • Rash of Stabbings
  • Stukas Over Bedrock
  • Technosquid Eats Parliament

A few are designed to look good on a marquee, like FREE BEER AND CHICKEN and HORNETS ATTACK VICTOR MATURE.

A Common Theme

Deaths of selected Burmese kings:

  • Uzana (1254): Trampled to death by an elephant
  • Minrekyawswa (1417): Crushed to death by an elephant
  • Razadarit (1423): Died while lassoing elephants
  • Tabinshweti (1551): Beheaded while searching for an elephant

Draw your own conclusions.

Good Point

A samurai once asked Zen master Hakuin where he would go after he died. Hakuin answered, “How am I supposed to know?”

“How do you know? You’re a Zen master!” exclaimed the samurai.

“Yes, but not a dead one,” Hakuin answered.


Image: Wikimedia Commons

A guy is sitting at home when there’s a knock at the door.

He opens it and there’s a snail sitting on the doorstep.

He picks up the snail and throws it as far as he can.

Three years later the guy is sitting at home and there’s a knock at the door.

He opens it and the same snail is sitting on the doorstep.

The snail says, “What the hell was that about?”


Epitaphs, proposed by their owners:

Mel Blanc: “That’s all, folks!”
Jack Lemmon: “In”
Jackie Gleason: “And away we go!”
Spike Milligan: “I told you I was ill.”
Peter Ustinov: “Do not walk on the grass.”

Thank You for Your Submission

Rejection letters sent to Henry James:

“A duller story I have never read. It wanders through a deep mire of affected writing and gets nowhere, tells no tale, stirs no emotion but weariness. The professional critics who mistake an indirect and roundabout use of words for literary art will call it an excellent piece of work; but people who have any blood in their veins will yawn and throw it down — if, indeed, they ever pick it up.”

“It is surely the n+1st power of Jamesiness. … It gets decidedly on one’s nerves. It is like trying to make out page after page of illegible writing. The sense of effort becomes acutely exasperating. Your spine curls up, your hair-roots prickle & you want to get up and walk around the block. There is no story — oh! but none at all …”

They didn’t seem to bother him. “Do not mind anything that anyone tells you about anyone else,” he said. “Judge everyone and everything for yourself.”