The Weekly Humorist Podcast Weekly Humorist

Boy Scout flag We learned how to tie all the knots, but we did not learn how to untie them. Please send help. Girl Scout flag We're out of cookies. Wisconsin flag We're out of beer. Florida flag Florida Man currently vacationing in Nantucket. California flag Some of our bears mate with geckos, and their offspring consequently walk on the ceiling. Jolly Roger flag Come aboard and take yer booty back. House of Rapunzel flag The royal barber insisted that a pixie cut looked best with Rapunzel's face shape. Lego castle flag When your cheap-ass parents buy you the dollar store bricks that don't even fit together right. Pride flag Sweet, sweet revenge of Vib G. Yor. Polish flag You can reach us at our winter residence in Monaco. Japanese flag Party 'til the sun goes down. New England Patriots flag We confess to all of it: Spygate, Deflategate, replacing Tom Brady with a robot in that BetMGM ad. Prince symbol flag Lake Minnetonka closed to swimmers on account of blue-green algae. We ask for your patience while we purify the waters. Pineapple flag I'm pretty sure I can talk my wife into it. Canadian flag It's autumn.

1) Purchases of t-shirts by your husband from beach breweries will never exceed the amount of decorative whale pillows you purchase from artsy beach stores, even if it feels like it. 2) There are only two conditions when it's acceptable to suggest to your husband that he purchase a new bathing suit at the beach: 1. He accidentally left the one bathing suit he owns at home. 2. You, or a random passerby, point out that his testicles are visible through the faded fabric of his current suit. 3) Your husband will act like he didn't notice the attractive lady thirty yards to the left. In reality, he saw her an hour ago and already downloaded the virtual JPEG image into the deep recesses of his brain, where only alike photos, irrelevant sports statistics, and obscure lyrics to grunge band songs reside. 4) If you suggest to your husband that he reapply his sunscreen and he waves you off, he's not being disrespectful. He just thinks that if Obi-Wan Kenobi can fight Annakin Skywalker on the fiery planet of Mustafar in Star Wars episode III: Revenge of the Sith, and not get burned, neither will he. 5) If your husband wants you to stop into one of those old-time photo places on the boardwalk with him, dress up in pre-Victorian costumes that haven't been washed since pre-Victorian times, and spend $118 on poor quality photos, just go along with it. 6) Inevitably, your husband will try and explain the weather patterns on the coast and how they differ from the ones at home. 96% of what he says is either made up or is something his father told him in 1986. Nod your head and say, "That's neat, dear." 7) Your husband doesn't want to try seven different restaurants for dinner. He prefers visiting the same one seven times in a row because they cooked his flounder to perfection last year. After the first night, he'll realize the flounder wasn't as good as he remembers and you'll be free to explore other options. 8) Your husband can't be expected to do your laundry while on vacation. You have a lot of weird beach clothes of varying fabrics and he doesn't understand the meaning of 'delicates.' His entire laundry doing experience revolves around cotton. You can, and should, blame his mother for this. 9) Fun fact: Every scented candle smells exactly the same to your husband. Therefore, he trusts you to select the perfect beach themed one to pair with the plethora of whale pillows you already purchased. 10) Your husband is genetically engineered to yell "This is bullshit," while stuck in beach traffic. In 2024, he is also allowed to add a "Goddammit," at his own discretion, because these days the GPS will tell him the exact moment he'll arrive home, and it's steadily increasing. He's not yelling at you, even if he's yelling in your direction because he wanted to leave an hour earlier than you actually did.

Don't contact anyone from the spirit world who hasn't watched the last several seasons of The Bachelorette, or you'll be up with them half the night. You must keep your hands clasped together with the hands of those on either side of you during the seance; no playing grab-ass beneath the table. If the departed spirit had been lactose intolerant during their time in our realm, make sure not to serve any dairy products to your guests. The departed cannot consume the inflammatory items, of course, but it's just kind of rude. Try to not contact a departed spirit who ever had a one night stand with someone famous during their life, as that's all that they want to talk about, even if it was with some soccer player or something that no one cares about. Please do not break wind during the seance, even if you think that you can sneak one out; the departed spirit knows and can hear all, and the medium channeling the spirit will definitely call you out on it. Prior to the seance, cover all nearby mirrors with black cloth. Mirrors are a gateway between our world and the afterlife which can be breached, and your less attractive friends will be relieved to avoid a reminder of their unappealing appearance. Bringing a Ouija board to a seance is like bringing a lice comb to an orgy; it's bad form, just don't do it. Please don't vape during the seance; many spirits enjoy appearing in the realm of the living with a subtle introduction of otherworldly smoke, and it's very inappropriate to cock block their grand entrance.

Last summer our @NatlParkService account was famous for warning people about bears in National Parks. But we're not just about bears. And you tourists are not just about trying to pet bears. TIPS: Please do not kick the bison. This whole thing about "Are you safer in the woods with a man or a bear" - you know that's a pithy commentary on today's society, right? Indeed, we might even say a commentary on the history of human relations. What we might not say is that it's safe to be in the woods with a strange bear. A bear you already know and trust, sure, maybe. Maybe you already have a solid, trusting relationship with a bear: From your career in the circus, or your time as a zookeeper, when you spent all day pulling thorns out of bear paws. Or maybe you're a park ranger on vacation, Sarah, but even then you understand that Bob was just never going to be a safe choice in a relationship; I mean, his male friends all call him "Gropemaster" and the first thing he ever told you about himself was that he had a tower of empty White Claw cans 20 levels high. But the point is, the whole thing is a sad joke women instantly recognize as a truth about this crazy world we call Yosemite. You know that, right? Do not bring your Dad Band to the park. Do not play recordings of your Dad Band in any park, national or otherwise. It frightens the animals. It frightens everyone. Every living thing, including the grass. Please do not stick your hand in a boiling hot spring. Unless you do that at home. If that is how you are accustomed to getting spaghetti out of the pot at home, by all means, you, sir, absolutely know what you are doing, and who are we at the National Park Service to tell you that sticking your bare hand in a volcanically-heated, bubbling 198°F hot spring is going to harm your bare flesh. Speaking of bare: Once again, please do not attempt any physical contact with bears. This includes playful tickling, lustful sex, or dentistry. If you decide to take a cute picture of your three-year-old feeding a hot dog to a bison, just turn yourself in to the authorities now. (We are the authorities.) Your toddler's finger will not grow back. Speaking of fingers: You do not play the guitar as well as you think you do. You might think you've "still got it" but if you think about it, if you ever had it to still "got" you would not have have spent your career as an Enviro consultant and then an accountant for your cousin's car dealership when you failed at consulting. Just stop. We do have caves; play your gitbox in one of those. Maybe the bears will welcome you. Only you can prevent forest fires! It's strange that a bear knows this better than you do. It's weird that you even have matches. Who uses matches anymore? That thing under your car is called a "road." It is designed specifically to accommodate motor vehicles. If you do not see a road under your vehicle, you are in a ditch, bear's mouth, or 198°F hot spring. Our national parks contain many fabulous lakes that are not 198°F hot springs. However, if you decide to take a moonlit skinny dip with your loved one, we recommend you not leave you clothes on the path, where other campers might find them and walk off with them. (True story. I brought them back when the shouting started.) There are many natural herbs in our forests and canyons. Some have been known for centuries as sources of healing, even enlightenment. There are also many poisonous plants, and sometimes even poison ivy. If you want to make yourself tea from any of these, we can't stop you. We have also given up warning you about water quality, or that some of that water is 198°F. Please do not hog the outhouses. Speaking of outhouses, another reminder: Do not invite the other members of your Dad Band to jam with you around the campfire. It might seem harmless to you - even "fun" - but there are children sleeping within 400 square miles. And spouses that are already having second second thoughts about what retirement with you h

Hi there! Nice to have you all here in my home. First tossup is worth 15 minutes of my attention. Category is "animal sounds." Piper? Squeak! No. Roger? Caw! That's it! Roger Sajak from right here in Los Angeles. Says here you're good friends with the other falcons down the street at Drew Carey's? Caw! Caw! Gotcha. Next we have Piper Sajack from - look at that - Los Angeles. I'm told you're a big fan of tug of war and playing in water? Squeak! Squeak! Good stuff. Classic ferret. And then we have Fibula Sajak, born in Chicago and now living in - wow! - Los Angeles. Amazing. Fibula, are you there? All contestants must be visible; this is TV. Because everyone is being filmed these days, Roger. That's how. Producers, do we have a substitute? Great. Helpful as always, Degas dancers. Howdy, Finger Sajak. I hear you love to paint, and you have nine siblings? I'm seeing a thumbs up from one of them. Alright then. You three will be going up against last week's players. You've seen them around. Next tossup is worth a half hour of my time. Category is "home appliance sounds." Faucet? Gushhh. Nope. Relax, Piper. Fridge? Hummm. You got it. Fridge Sajak, on the board. You know what? I'll be delegating that half hour to my maid. Still appreciate you, though. Which reminds me: it's 4:45. Time for dinner. Alright, our final tossup is worth twenty minutes, more or less. We're looking for "fresh out of the microwave cheesy food sounds." Fondue? Glub. No - microwaved cheesy food sounds. Fajita? Sizzzzle. Yes! Fajita Sajak, joining the fun. Don't look at me like that, Fondue. I make them cheesy, even if that isn't traditional. If you insist, go take it up with the judges on the chess board. No, silly, just the ones in black. Finger, can you spin the wheel for our next puzzle? While you're up, turn the faucet off? Yes, I forgot. Don't be difficult. I could stop getting manicures, you know. Thank you. The category now is "warm clothing sounds." Fedora, you'd like to solve? Fedora? I need an answer. Not quite your element, now is it. Fleece? Zzzzzip. Judges? Okay, we'll allow it. Fleece takes it, with an assist from finger and his spokesman. This being a prize puzzle, fleece, you'll get plenty of time with me… …on my trip next month to Alaska! Fedora, you wait here. Italy's in August. Our final puzzle before the commercial break is "sounds at my front door about two minutes after the security guard at my gate falls asleep." Fanboy? KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK! Ugh, yeah. Piper, get out of my pant leg! Okay, Steve, Mitchell - whatever your name is. You win another 13 seconds with me while I sign this DVD box set for you. Congrats. Now if you don't mind, I have to do the bonus round and then settle in for Jeopardy. I think this is the day that Fridge finally gets a Daily Double.

Surprise! It's me, your first sunburn of the season. I know, it's a little soon, but I'm here, and quite frankly it's too late to try and stop me, so you might as well just get used to it. I can tell that you're pretty unhappy right now, and look: I get it. You get one nice, mild, sunny day and you decide to spend it outside. That's great! But next time you wish to relish in the beautiful weather, remember that I'm here to bring you down a peg. It's not a big deal, I am simply the vessel for transporting your negative thoughts and feelings from intangible concepts in your head to physical representations on your body. Sorry not sorry! Did you enjoy your time basking in the sun? Go to brunch with a friend? Take a walk in the park or maybe just run far, far away from all of your responsibilities? While these are completely normal and valid ways to feel joy for the first time in six months, they do not fly in my house. You will now have to take responsibility for your actions and accept your punishment of having a bright crimson-colored back for an undetermined amount of time. But actually, in this case, having merely a discolored back wouldn't be so bad. This time, I'm not just a little irritation on your shoulders or a semi-permanent flush on your chest. Get ready for: the great peeling. I'm sure you didn't forget about me. I'm the grossest part of a sunburn: skin shedding everywhere, flaking off in your bed and onto your clothes. I'm the aftermath of your bad decision, exposing you as a dummy who doesn't wear sunscreen, forcing all of your spaghetti-strap sundresses out of the daily rotation and into the back of your closet. I also make it difficult for you to wear a bra as I sit on your shoulders, itchy, painful, reminding you to take your sun protection seriously on even the most mild of days now that you've ended up here. Are you stressed out at the thought of my presence? Bam! I have now resulted in sunburn blisters, popping up on top of the already overexposed flesh and leftover skin. I'm on the top of your shoulders, the back of your ribcage, I'm everywhere. I'm Beetlejuice 2.0. How do you like me now? I'm ruining your dating life, too. Now that you feel awkward getting naked in front of people, you will not be having sex for quite some time. Your prospects have shrunk down to exclusively those whose opinions you don't care about, like one night stands or that one friends-with-benefits who is way more into you than you are into them. Honestly it doesn't matter, because your romantic and sexual desires will lessen with every peeling and every painful shower, where washing your disgusting body will remind you what a trainwreck you are and why no one should ever date you in the first place. Look on the bright side: at least it's only spring, and now you've learned your lesson for when summer rolls around. What a convenient excuse this time! Except that due to global warming, the weather is going to become more and more unpredictable, and the first nice day of the year will start falling earlier and earlier. Let me know when you turn tomato red in January, and maybe then I'll be satisfied with the "painful sunburn" shot to "worrying about skin cancer" chaser. Otherwise, I'll be here, waiting and watching. Cheers!