Me and The 'V'

It has been said that experience is the best teacher. I have recently
experienced a procedure called a vasectomy. I am now qualified to dispel
the misinformation that I was given before my wings were clipped Many
myths surround this operation. Walk up to any man and tell him you are
considering a vasectomy. After he finishes wincing, he will probably relay
one or more of the following myths:

MYTH #1: A Vasectomy Is Not Uncomfortable. Let me say that a vasectomy is
not the most unpleasant experience a human being can endure. Having your
kidneys removed with pliers would be more unpleasant. Pouring sulfuric
acid into your ear would be more unpleasant. The list goes on and on. The
liberal use of local anesthesia reduces physical pain during the
operation. If there is any discomfort, it is emotional.

I believe myself to be a typical guy. When a nurse tells me to strip naked
from the waist down, lie on a table, cover myself with a napkin and relax;
I have a difficult time with the relaxing part. I assume other typical
guys would be equally uneasy. The suggestion I would make would be to look
at the ceiling and never, ever, ever, ever look at what the doctor is
doing. The sound effects are bad enough. At one point, I casually glanced
toward the doctor's hand and saw the most sinister looking pair of
scissors I have ever beheld. "Now relax", he said. It seemed he could
sense my tension. Maybe it was my furrowed brow. Maybe it was the slight
twitch in my forearm. Maybe it was my shrieking, "THE LORD IS MY SHEPHERD!
HE MAKES ME LIE DOWN IN GREEN PASTURES…"

MYTH #2: You will be back to normal in two days. This is true if you
normally lay around the house all day with a bag of frozen peas in your
pants. Otherwise, it will be several weeks before you will be able to use
the restroom facilities without a spotter present. For a full week after
surgery, the mere sight of boxer shorts will double you over with pain.

MYTH #3: None of your friends will even have to know you've been snipped.
Ha! Ha! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Ha! Ha! Haaaa! Whew. That's my favorite myth. I
always get a chuckle out of it. If your friends are blind enough to not
notice that you are hobbling around like you just received a cactus enema,
then they might not notice you've been snipped. I believe that the
doctor's office sends postcards to your friends, co-workers and family
members informing them of your vasectomy. The postcard contains all the
funny quips that vasectomy survivors love to hear. On the card are such
classic lines as:

"Is that an igloo in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?"

"Don't feel bad, some very famous men are sterile." "Hey! Give me a hand
with this piano, will ya?"

"Some men are lovers. Some men are fighters. What are you?"

So there's no way to keep the secret from your friends. You save a lot of
grief by wearing a T-shirt that reads, "Say YES to Vasectomy. I did!"

MYTH #4: The vasectomy renders you sterile. While it's true that your
beloved wife will no longer become pregnant, it is not necessarily because
you are sterile. The vasectomy effectively renders you celibate. As far as
I can tell, for the rest of my life I will be physically fulfilled by a
warm handshake. I don't need any other contact. In fact, I cringe at the
thought of anything touching my body except for frozen peas. I see the
underwear models on television and wonder, "How can they smile like that?
Don't those things hurt?"

MYTH #5: You will lead a completely normal life after a vasectomy. It's
too early to tell, but I bet this is a myth too. The only people who have
described experiences similar to this are the ones on "Unsolved Mysteries"
who claim to have been abducted by aliens. I fully expect to have
Vasecto-flashbacks. I'll probably be at a ribbon cutting ceremony
somewhere and freak when they bring out the giant paper scissors. You
don't just forget something like this.

I hope I haven't discouraged anyone contemplating a vasectomy. My aim is
simply to inform. Weigh the facts versus the myths and then make up your
own mind. If you decide to go ahead with the "Big V" that's fine. I
understand there are some soprano openings in the church choir.

It's Awful Hot

It's been over 100 degrees here in Kokomo for the last couple of weeks.
Every day the weatherman comes on the television and says: "Well, the
thermometer is up around 100 degrees this afternoon, but the heat index
will make it feel more like 1,000,000. Stay inside if you can. Don't go
outside for any reason, not even to get your mail. Truth is, you probably
won't have mail anyway because most of the mail carriers in the U.S. burst
into flames on their routes yesterday. Just sit inside and repeatedly
flush your head in the toilet. Don't run the air conditioner too much
because that will put a strain on the power station. A strain on the power
station could cause a loss of service in the area and then the air
conditioning won't work here at the television station. Then I'll probably
suffer from heat exhaustion and won't be able to come on the air and tell
you that the temperature is over 100 degrees. If I don't tell you, how
would you ever know that it's incredibly hot outside?" It's been like that
for weeks and weeks. The grass in my yard has given up hope. The squirrels
that used to frolic on the telephone lines are nowhere to be seen. I saw a
documentary on PBS about deserts and the scenery looked COMFORTABLE! I'm
telling you, it's hot. Our local weatherman always acts as though he is
telling me something I wouldn't otherwise know. It's as if he doesn't
think seeing my neighbors evaporate into clouds of sweaty vapor is enough
of a clue for me to realize the temperature is up. I'm tired of being told
how to behave when it's hot outside too. The health experts issue warnings
like, "Make sure you drink water when you're outside in this heat." Hmmm.
That probably would never have occurred to me as I saunter down the
sidewalk leaving puddles of perspiration. And as long as we're on the
subject of helpful, though apparently not obvious, hot weather survival
tips; here are a few of my own:

- Don't sit in the car with the heater on and the windows rolled up.

- Don't preheat the oven to 500 degrees and then get inside it.

- Don't put your hands into molten steel.

- When swimming underwater, come up for air before you drown.

- Remember, Crisco has an SPF rating of minus 50.

- Don't lay in direct sunlight wearing a long-sleeve, wool jumpsuit.

- Avoid prolonged activities that are directly in the path of flowing lava.

- If you smell burning flesh when you stand barefoot on the street, put
shoes on.

- Drink plenty of water

I'm sure that very soon the heat will be gone and then we'll all get back
to our normal summer activities - complaining because it's too rainy. Let
me suggest you make the best of this sultry weather by doing something to
distract your mind from the oppressive heat. This might be a good time to
consider a change in careers. I understand the post office is looking for
mail carriers….
--
Comedy That Won't Leave A Filthy Residue
www.johnbranyan.com

Cat Had Kittens

The cat had kittens last night. The miracle of birth happened right before
our wondering eyes. As I stood watching the event with my wife and
children, I kept marveling, "The miracle of birth is absolutely the
messiest miracle in all creation".

The mother cat was not our cat. It was a stray cat that showed up on our
back porch a few weeks ago. It undoubtedly had heard from the other cats
in the neighborhood that my family will feed and care for any animal that
wanders onto our property. The most detestable, downtrodden and destitute
creatures on the planet have found sanctuary in our garage over the years.
They stay in the garage until one of my children discovers them. After the
discovery, the child informs my wife that there is a "really sad cat (or
dog, or squirrel or warthog) living in our garage and it's cold and lonely
and needs to come inside and be with people". Then my wife goes out to
examine the animal to make sure it is as cold and lonely as the child
indicates.

My wife has the amazing ability to look into the eyes of an animal and
determine what the animal is thinking. When she looks into a kitty's eyes,
she can tell that it's thinking, "I'm lonely and misunderstood and would
appreciate your generously providing me with food, shelter and love." She
responds by bringing the animal into our house and providing it with every
one of it's wishes. Judging by her actions upon viewing a spider, I assume
it must be thinking, "I want you to squish me with a hardcover book." The
afore mentioned cat must have been thinking, "Let me into your house that
I may jettison my cargo of kittens all over your couch". As she brought
the cat in, she told said, "She's pregnant. You don't mind, do you?" How
can she tell what the cat is thinking by looking at it's face, and have no
idea what I'm thinking when she looks at me?

People interact with the animal world on many different levels of
intimacy. When the family dog makes a mess on the floor, it's excused
because the family dog is, in fact, part of the family. It's unreasonable
to kick the family member out of the family for one mistake, even if that
mistake produces a pungent odor and requires disinfectant to clean up.
I've known people who actually kiss household pets. I don't mean a peck on
the forehead either. I know people who kiss animals mouth to mouth. The
thing about animals is that they seldom keep their tongues in their
mouths. They use their tongues to lick themselves, to drink from the
toilet and to eat garbage. You've got to have a special relationship to
french kiss a tongue that's been in all those places.

But we didn't have that kind of relationship with this cat. The cat just
showed up on our porch and dropped a load of kittens. I'm not ready for
that kind of intimacy. For the record, I would like to at least know your
name before you give birth on my furniture. And, if you have fleas, I
would prefer you not be on my furniture for any reason. Is that cruel?
I've never thought of myself as mean and insensitive. In fact it seems
more insensitive to repay the hospitality of a stranger by permanently
staining the upholstery and sprinkling the carpet with parasites.

Now we have a box full of kittens on our back porch. The kids think the
kittens are cute and sweet. I suppose they are kind of cute if your
concept of the word is broad enough to encompass a mass of crusty-eyed,
emaciated mammals that wallow in their own waste. I have a different word
for them.

I don't know exactly what we're going to do with the cats now that they
are "ours". My desperate hope is that cat's are not like salmon; returning
to their place of birth in order to give birth themselves. If that's the
case, I can look forward to a parade of fertile felines roosting on my
sofa for decades to come. I think the best way to handle the situation is
to simply place the cats in the garages of homes wherein dwells a woman
who can read the thoughts of animals.

Scooby Doo Argument

My wife and I have been married for 14 years and during that time we've
had many fights. Although the fights varied in content and form, the cause
of the fights has remained consistent. It's me. We fight because of a
birth defect I have that makes it impossible for me to know when to
shut-up and walk away.

Some arguments are trivial. Our last arguement, however, was not. The
conflict was over a subject that both of us knew would have a profound
impact on our existance as individuals and as a couple.

Me: "No. The dark haired girl with glasses on Scooby-Doo was Velma. The
blonde was Daphne."

She: "You're wrong. Velma was blonde."

Me: "Right. And Shaggy was blonde too..."

She: "Now you're just being ridiculous."

Me: "And what was the dog's name, Benji?"

She: "I don't want to talk anymore."

Me: "Lassie? Spot?"

She: "I'm dropping it now."

Me: "Snoopy."

She: "Why do you do that?"

Me: "What?"

She: "You need to have the last word every time."

Me: "No I don't."

She: "Yes you do."

Me: "Do not."

She: "See?"

Me: "What?!"

She: "You always take the last word."

Me: "I don't ALWAYS take the last word."

She: "Whatever."

Me: "Fine."

She: "You did it again."

Me: "Okay. I get your point."

She: "Then stop taking the last word."

Me: "FINE!"

She: "You can't do it. You always have the last word."

Me: "I...oops."

She: "HA! It's automatic. You CAN'T STAND to let me have the last word."

Me: "That's not true. Take the next word and I won't say anything."

She: "Velma was the blonde."

Me: "THAT'S NOT TRUE! Velma wore glasses and had brown hair!"

She: "I thought you said I could have the last word."

Me: "BUT YOU'RE WRONG! I can't let the last word be a mistake!"

She: "Okay. Take the last word. You always do."

Me: (straining not to speak) "mmmmmmmmmm"

She: "There. Are you happy?"

Me: "I didn't say anything. That was a noise. It wasn't a word."

She: "You always have to have the last noise."

Me: "You've GOT to be kidding me! The last noise?"

She: "Now you're back to having the last word!"

Me: (Silently throw my hands up in the air and roll my eyes.)

She: "Okay. Be that way. You win!"

Me: "How did I win? I made no sound. I spoke no words!"

She: "You made a gesture. You had the last gesture."

Me: "What do you want me to do, vanish into thin air?!!"

She: "Is that your final word?"

Me: "Yes!"

She: "See what I mean?"

Me: (Blinded by tears of frustration) "AAAAAAA"

She: (Smiles smugly and writes on a piece of paper. "You have the last
word....happy?")

It's honestly not that important to me to have the last word. What IS
important is that she understand DAPHNE WAS THE BLONDE! I can prove once
and for all that, whenever I want to, I can keep myself from having the
last...
--
Comedy That Won't Leave A Filthy Residue
www.johnbranyan.com

Temporary Insanity

I'm not worried about people with temporary insanity. I'm worried by
people who have temporary sanity.

Ample Opportunity

Have you ever been told that you needed to do something like 'put the
barbecue grill away' and you assured the person who told you to do it that
you would in a minute and then many minutes go by and you completely
forget about the assignment? That's what happened to me. I have to go...
--
Comedy That Won't Leave A Filthy Residue
www.johnbranyan.com