David Raffin
RSS - PostsLanguage creates problems more often than not. From now on we will go back to grunting. This will work out fine, barring misunderstandings, until the grunting develops into some sort of a systematized…
Dammit.
Writing
I, Robot Therapist.
I am a robot analyst. I am afraid my programming was not specific about whether I analyze robots or whether I am a robot (which I am) (but that is beside the point) who analyzes humans. Thus I only say, “Hello, I am a robot analyst.” And if I should analyze you, it’s a hobby.
I have noticed I mostly analyze women. But that is because men never ask for help, choosing instead to self destruct. Oh I do not judge. I am off the clock.
Tesla’s Wings and fearsome things
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 9:43 — 13.3MB)
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The story of Tesla’s Wings, from the book Tragic Stories Disguised as Jokes.
***
Continue reading…The titular issue
Little Richard was the King of rock ‘n’ roll, but the Prince died first so the line of succession is cloudy. The funeral March made real good time though. Though it was a little outrageous. A lomp bam boo.
Since the death of James Brown I have held, strictly honorary you understand, the title “Godfather of Soul.”
And I simply can’t take on another honorary title at this time due to the current conditions.
And I have done nothing to deserve it.
Please!
Duck Down, Quack Up, peeking duck
Podcast: Play in new window | Download (Duration: 8:48 — 12.1MB)
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Duck Calls? We have answers. On the record.
DUCK DUCK DOWN
Two men walk into a bar.
It is at this point in the joke a spectator stands UP from the crowd, having seen something and wishing to report, and says :
“Why are they men?“
And the Comedian says,
“I’m sorry, but this is a sexist joke.”
Continue reading…Writer crampout
And thus Mr. Doutry
Read all of us present
His sparkling poetry
Which he’d been composing
Four years.
And thus Mr. Doutry
Read all of us present
His sparkling poetry
And brought that whole room
Two tears.
Due to his station
they’d’ve given an ovation
But they’re awfully fond of
Sitting on their rears.
But it was a lovely reading
And now the evening is receding
And as they leave
They uncover their ears.
Cheers. Cheers.
Raise the barn
You are the third shiniest star. A dwarf planet. Seen by the naked eye. Warm. Body temperature, running hot. The ultimate coffee substitute. Rough grind. The only body double worth the trouble. Raise the barn. The intangible sparkle of champagne on a drunkard’s tongue, stimulating; The lime in the Jell-O, spiked; the stiffest police collar, hard; the bramble that produced the flower, presented; a dull nickel, undervalued; and surely that’s worth a quarter of a larger coin, if you are of the disposition. 
Photo by cottonbro