35. A slight interruption in the narrative, one that you can easily skip because this post will do nothing to reduce your frustration over the lack of progress in any of the other narrative strings that, for some reason, seem to have come to a screeching halt

Editor's Note: Just about every year at this time, when the October air is crisp, the days are getting even shorter, and everything outside is either dead or dying, Duane Hawkinson, owner of Duane's pretty good Smokehouse Salsa, has a tendency to fall into a lethargic funk, staying in bed for days and avoiding looking out his bedroom window at what used to be a highly productive, happy little production facility. Well, not one to languish in self-pity (for too long, anyway), he attempts to lift the spirits of his staff by attempting to lift his own spirits with what he calls "the path of happiness via wit and silliness." In other words, here's another batch of his cornball attempts at humor, just delivered to me via an e-mail attachment with strict orders that it be posted immediately so that, and I quote, "everyone can have a little taste of salsa-like sunshine." He really said that. What a schmuck. (The first batch arrived in Post #11. I warned you then. Don't say I didn't warn you again.)

Elephants checking their trunks

Riddle One: Why does an elephant have a trunk on its front? Answer: To keep an eye on its luggage. It's a jungle out there.

Riddle Two: What did the elephant say to the giraffe after they'd narrowly escaped hungry lions? Answer: Nothing. They're not really on speaking terms.

Riddle Three: When is an O a Q? Answer: When it's suffering from a prolapsed vowel. (This is a pun-based visual riddle intended for the medical community. God knows those folks could use a good laugh.)


Editor's Note (continued): Well, at least they were short. At any rate, I'm going to have a talk with Hawkinson about his humor, and whether it can't just be buried somewhere in longer narratives--to reduce the potential pain on you the reader. On the other hand, if you actually think his humor is funny (and you should probably go in for a psych evaluation if that's the case), please e-mail us at duane.hawkinson@gmail.com and we'll post your comment. We probably won't post it on this blog, though. Still, we'd like to hear what you think. Remember it's a real e-mail address, so keep your thoughts pure and your motivations virtuous--at least keep the profanity to a minimum. For your efforts, your name will be placed in the pool of candidates eligible to win a jar of Duane's pretty good Smokehouse Salsa (although this year's supply is exhausted, which means you may, if you win, have to wait about seven to eight months for your jar, if you win, which we've already stipulated, but it's worth repeating--to keep your expectations low, which makes the day you receive your salsa, after all hope has probably been lost, all that much better. Hawkinson believes in happy surprises, especially for dispirited people. If he were to be honest, he would admit that he has played a small role in causing their dispiritedness. He's funny that way. Maybe he believes the old saying, "Misery loves company." He's pretty miserable right now. Your e-mail could attempt to cheer him up, but don't try to be encouraging. He hates that.)

Thank you.