The following piece was taken from the "Shouts & Murmurs" section of The New Yorker (the weekly segment devoted to the funniest writing around...and yes, Jack Handy is still writing for it!), and I simply had to share it:
by Simon Rich August 4, 2008
If adults were subjected to the same indignities as children . . .
Zoe: Dad, I’m throwing a party tonight, so you’ll have to stay in your room. Don’t worry, though—one of my friends brought over his father for you to play with. His name is Comptroller Brooks and he’s roughly your age, so I’m sure you’ll have lots in common. I’ll come check on you in a couple of hours. (Leaves.)
Comptroller Brooks: Hello.
Mr. Higgins: Hello.
Comptroller Brooks: So . . . um . . . do you follow city politics?
Mr. Higgins: Not really.
Comptroller Brooks: Oh.
Zoe: I forgot to tell you—I told my friends you two would perform for them after dinner. I’ll come get you when it’s time. (Leaves.)
Comptroller Brooks: Oh, God, what are we going to do?
Mr. Higgins: I know a dance . . . but it’s pretty humiliating.
Comptroller Brooks: Just teach it to me.
Lobbyist: If you fail to pass this proposition, it will lead to the deaths of thousands. Any questions?
Senator: Why are you wearing a sailor suit?
Lobbyist: My children decided to dress me this way, on a whim. I told them it was an important day for me, but they wouldn’t listen.
Senator: It’s adorable.
Lobbyist: O.K. . . . but do you agree with the proposition? About the war?
Senator: Put on the cap.
Lou Rosenblatt: Can I drive your car? I’ll give it back when I’m done.
Mrs. Herson: I’m sorry, do I know you?
Lou Rosenblatt: No, but we’re the same age and we use the same garage.
Mrs. Herson: No offense, sir, but I really don’t feel comfortable lending you my car. I mean, it’s by far my most important possession.
Brian Herson: Mom, I’m surprised at you! What did we learn about sharing?
Mrs. Herson: You’re right . . . I’m sorry. Take my Mercedes.
Lou Rosenblatt: Thank you. Can I come over to your house later? I’m lonely and I don’t have any friends.
Mrs. Herson: Well . . . actually . . . I kind of had plans tonight.
Brian Herson: Are you excluding him?
Mrs. Herson: No, of course not! (Sighs.) Here’s my address, sir. The party starts at eight.
Lou Rosenblatt: I’ll show up a little early.
Mrs. Herson: What’s that on your face?
Lou Rosenblatt: Mucus. I haven’t learned how to blow my nose yet, so I just go around like this all the time.
Mrs. Herson: Oh.
Lou Rosenblatt: I’ll see you soon, inside your house. ♦
I'm 32, a dad, and I am not a douchebag...
6 years ago