My Most Autobiographical Humor Piece

I’ve been plagued with car troubles for a very long time. See, I don’t make much money even though I have a full-time job, I don’t work very hard so I can’t get a raise, and my car was old and broken.

Three out of four of its windows did not work anymore. I had to manually push them up routinely. My car smelled like a swamp with a dash of cigarette butts and a dollop of the other kind.

I perhaps could have saved some money over time but every three or four months something would break down – causing me to toss out three hundred dollars here and there and depleting my savings even worse than my Half Price Books habit or buffet food.

It all came to a catastrophic climax in early August when, one morning, as I headed out to write dick jokes at work and do nothing I was supposed to, my car just would not start. It wasn’t the battery, it was the computer system, and I was doomed.

Thus began a week of Uber and walking and getting rides from my dear patient girlfriend and panic. But a deus ex machina arrived in the form of my parents are middle-class Appalachian, which is poor for the rest of the country, but rich in cars that half work.

My new old car ran (poorly) for about three weeks. Then it broke down, as well. After it was finally fixed up, and I had pulled even more hair from my head than piss-poor genetics did, I wrote this series of prose poems:

My Car Is Dead But My Soul Is Alive

Points in Case was kind enough to publish them.

Prose Commercial: House: The Restaurant

My new humor piece is up at Defenestration. It’s basically a prose commercial called “House: The Restaurant“.

It was one of my earliest humor pieces after I started really writing them in late 2015. After a few rejections, I retired it. But one day I was looking through all my other rejects and realized, hey, that one actually has something. So I polished it up and tried again.

Sometimes one gives up too early. Other times, the thing you keep sending out over and over again will never work. If I knew the difference between these two scenarios, I would be actually good already.

Maybe that will come in time.

Maybe I’m just telling jokes into an empty audience until the day I die of a heart attack I mistook for heartburn. Either way, I’d rather play creatively and get better than just play PUBG all day. Even if that is a really good game. (Seriously, it’s the best mobile game I’ve ever seen.)

Larry McMurtry and Arcade Hipsters

My new humor piece “The Last Arcade Repairman” is up at Waxing Humorous. It’s a little play on Westerns and arcades. Its title is a pun on The Last Picture Show.

The piece let me flex my little Mark Twain dialect writing out that Elmore Leonard so reccomended against. But it’s real fun stuff. Both the piece and throwing some fake regional slang in.

(All the my knowledge of the West is admittedly secondhand from pop culture and some history books. I’ve actually never been west of the Mississippi but once and that just barely.)

Check it out if you got a minute or two. It’s nice and short.

On Writing Humor Vs. Standup: Blue Edition

I feel that there is a tremendous difference in what an audience in real life will accept vs. a reader, or, more specifically, most editors of most publications.

On the plus side in written humor you can get away with deeper cut references, more literary flare, and, frankly, softer jokes.

Because standup is a brutal, hard-hitting form. In prose humor, a chuckle can work.

Standup chews up chuckles and spits them out as weak crunchy stuff. Like a soft granola bar of mediocrity.

However, on the negative side, prose humor has to be a bit more refined than standup does. Refined as in subject matter and tastefulness, not in terms of comedy, necessarily.

For instance, let us use as an example my newest humor piece (this is secretly shameless self-promotion, sorry):

Walking with Dinosaurs Really Turns My Girlfriend On

If you open that link and peruse it you might note a few things. 1) It’s on Medium, which means I self-published it, which means no one else liked it enough to publish it for me. 2) It’s filthy as fuck.

Blue, in fact. That’s the phrase used in standup circles: working blue, blue comedy. A piece like that wouldn’t work as is in standup. Not for me. It’s too conceptual and I’m more of a one-linerish type.

I just don’t have the confidence to pull it off.

Yet something like that can work. You can get away with being very dirty in standup if you’re funny enough and not in the wrong room, i.e. church conference or coffeeshop filled with preteens. [The former for the evolution, the latter for the sex. Not that the former would be too fond of that part, either.]

But in prose, it’s hard to find a place willing to take something like that. I didn’t even try that many because I read them (you could too, by checking out my handy dandy humor markets listing) [even more links!!!] and I know, more or less, what they’re after.

So I self-published it. Because I do think it’s funny. And I’m desperate for validation (see Everything Else I Do).

And, yeah, it is pretty dirty. It’s so dirty I’m not even gonna share it on Facebook.  And that is why you never accept a friend request from your grandmother.

You just let it linger in the request que until she passes away and then you add her real quick so you can tag her in a really sad post and get a bunch of sympathy likes.

Likes are like insulin shots for diabetic assholes. I am not watching my diet.

Humor Piece Self-Promotion Initiate


My new humor piece “Cup of Bro’s: The Coffee Shop For Regular Dudes” is up at Little Old Lady Comedy.

It’s kind of a commercial for a douche bag alt-right (same thing) coffee shop. I like writing in that fake commercial format even though I know prose isn’t necessarily the best way to do it.

However, I am lazy and lack good video/audio editing software (and know-how) so still I try.

I dedicate this piece to Broomwagon Coffee + Bikes in Lexington, KY. They inspired me with their fine coffee, not by having abhorrent political views. They’re a combination bicycle/coffee shop, so, of course they’re progressive as fuck.

My Sexist Father Married A Good Female Driver


My new humor piece “My Sexist Father Married A Good Female Driver” is up at Pickle Fork. It’s a character monologue/essay as if from a fourteen year old girl. It was a lot of fun to write.

Three choice jokes from it:

My dad is the sort of person that thinks cheerleaders are the croutons in the salad that is the male gaze.


Sheila’s father was a mechanic and her mother is a gender studies professor, which means the combined influence of her parents is pretty much my father’s worst nightmare in a woman.


She’s a bit of a snob except she reads Clive Cussler novels so she’s also a hypocrite.

It’s pretty short if you have some time.