Tag Archives: comedy

Man carries 24 ounces of cocktail sauce through airport security

by John Johnson, staff writer

DENVER, CO—Despite the Transportation Security Administration’s strict ban on carrying more than three ounces of any liquid or gel through an airport security checkpoint, Ross Jensen, a Westminster resident and cocktail sauce aficionado, risked severe embarrassment, missing his flight, and being fined up to $10,000 when he slipped a full 24 ounces of homemade shrimp cocktail sauce past security screeners at Denver International Airport yesterday.

A metal detector, not unlike the one Ross Jensen passed through, which is designed to detect metal, not cocktail sauce.

A metal detector, not unlike the one Ross Jensen passed through, which is designed to detect metal, not cocktail sauce.

Jensen, 41, was on his way to Oshkosh, Wisconsin, to attend his sister’s housewarming party, when the incident occurred. Although remorseful for breaking the law, Jensen admitted that had he known he was violating five to seven federal statutes, he might still have done it, because “the party would have really sucked with just three ounces of cocktail sauce.”

Department of Homeland Security officials are still trying to figure out how such a monolithic security breach could have happened. Tom Mason, director of aviation security at DIA, said, “If we had known how much cocktail sauce this gentleman was carrying, there is no way our agents would have let him past the screening checkpoint. I mean, if he’d been a terrorist bent on blowing up an airplane with cocktail sauce, he could have done it. That’s scary. I want some shrimp.”

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Current TSA regulations prohibit the carriage of more than three ounces of any liquid or gel, whether it be shampoo, lotion, water, or even shrimp cocktail sauce. However, since Jensen was carrying the sauce in eight separate three-ounce bottles, including one in his pocket when he walked through the metal detector, he went unchallenged by any of the TSA screeners. X-ray machines do not have the capability to detect the type of substance inside a given container.

“If there’s one thing I know, it’s homemade cocktail sauce,” said Jensen. “And now I also know how to get onto an airplane with 24 ounces of homemade cocktail sauce. A good chef never stops learning.”

According to Jensen, guests at the party were quick to notice the large amount of cocktail sauce in the bowl next to the shrimp platter, and immediately asked him how he was able to get so much of the tomatoey, horseradishy goodness past security, onto the plane, and into their stomachs.

“I didn’t know I’d committed a federal crime until I got to the party, and everyone kept coming up to me, obviously baffled, to ask, ‘How?’ I swore it was an accident. But they were happy. They loved the sauce. And because they were happy, I was happy,” said Jensen.

After five silent minutes of smiling and staring peacefully toward the ceiling, Jensen continued: “You know, until now, I thought the TSA had been doing a great job making the public feel safe by maintaining the illusion of safety and security in our airports. Now I see it’s all a charade. They just better be glad I wasn’t a terrorist.”

Added Jensen: “I terrorized that party, though. The sauce was a hit. And maybe next time, I’ll make a barrelful—enough to plug the gaping hole I just found in U.S. airport security.”

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My living room is literally a sea of paper clips

Dear Mindy,

I have so many paperclips, I don’t know what to do with them. I mean, my house is FULL of paperclips. Literally. When I walk in the front door, I have to wade through a sea of paperclips just to get to the living room. Then I go to pick up the remote on the end table, and I can’t find the TV. Most people dust; I paperclip. I can’t even eat my cereal in the morning without ingesting paperclips, so I think it’s starting to get a little out of hand. What can I do?

—Rhonda Canner
Raleigh, NC

Mindy Torbett hiking in the Rocky Mountains with her sleeping bag and a backpack full of paperclips.

Mindy Torbett hiking in the Rocky Mountains with her sleeping bag and a backpack full of paperclips.

Every issue, readers from all over write in to ask our featured advice columnist pressing questions about a very specialized field. Whether they hope to resolve a dilemma or find a way out of their quandaries and quagmires, they get their answers here.

Today we are proud to feature Mindy Torbett, a Bozeman, Montana, resident specializing in paperclips.

Dear Rhonda,

I can identify with your situation, because as you may have guessed, I too own a ton of paperclips. What I’ve done, however, is taken all my paperclips and thrown them into my backyard swimming pool. Swimming in paperclips might be a little rough on the skin, but not only does it save me from constantly checking chlorine levels, it frees me up from the hassles of getting buried in a flood of paperclips every time I open the refrigerator.

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Dear Mindy,

Sitting at my cubicle desk yesterday, I suddenly ran out of paperclips. For half an hour I had been paperclipping things so helter-skelter and willy-nilly that I didn’t even notice I was running out. I needed another paperclip, so I took one off of my co-worker’s desk. He caught me, and got all bent out of shape about this one little paperclip. How can I smooth things over with him?

—Carla Flemmer
Long Island, NY

Dear Carla,

Some people, like your co-worker, don’t understand the frustration of running out of paperclips without any warning. But if you really want to smooth things over with your colleague, present him with a paperclip collage. Gather several dozen paperclips (of varying sizes, of course) and paste them all on a piece of poster board. Underneath your collage, write him a poem like “You have a beard / And you’re a little weird / But you’re my friend / And I don’t want it to end / So hopefully we can skip / This fight over a paperclip.” Then sit back and watch the hostility melt away.

The Teaspoon Times e-book: pick up a copy today!This and much more in my new 120-page e-book!
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Texas dies in fiery car crash at 162

by John Johnson, staff writer

KENNEBUNK, ME—The state of Texas was killed yesterday in a multi-car pileup along I-95 near Kennebunk, when his car plowed straight into a concrete overpass and burst into flames after he attempted to swerve around a previous pileup. Paramedics tried unsuccessfully to revive the state, and he died at the scene. Texas was 162.

The recently deceased state of Texas

The recently deceased state of Texas

Longtime neighbor Oklahoma told The Teaspoon Times that Texas was a great state to have as a friend. “He was just your typical, old-fashioned, down-home, hootin’ and hollerin’, nitty-gritty, Tex Mex, greasy spoon, shoot-’em-up kind of state. He was a big guy, but he had a big heart,” recalled Oklahoma.

Texas, who would have turned 163 in December, had endured his share of tough times. Even though the Mexican-American war ravaged many parts of the state in the 1840s, Texas met Louisiana soon after, and the couple settled down to a life together on the southern edge of the United States. Most recently, Hurricanes Katrina and Ike had caused some tension between them, but the two were just beginning to put that discord in the past.

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“There are just too many memories,” said Louisiana, choking back tears. “I still have the yellow rose he gave me when we first met. And I remember…excuse me…I remember…the Alamo.”

Texas is survived by his father, Delaware, his wife, Louisiana, as well as his three children, Austin, Dallas, and Amarillo, who all live nearby. An estranged son, Waco, moved to San Diego in 1994 and could not be reached for comment.

Officials have warned anybody with plans to drive through the state of Texas that they will only find empty space devoid of all substance and matter in place of the familiar, painfully long stretches of large-state nothingness and small-town mentalities devoid of all substance and matter.

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Lonely house getting lonelier, contemplating suicide

by John Johnson, staff writer

OAK PARK, MI—7124 South Becker Court, an off-white, two story, four bedroom, two bathroom house that has been empty for nearly a month, admitted it has been entertaining thoughts of suicide for several weeks, citing loneliness and heartbreak as main reasons for its depression, despite regular visits from parties interested in buying it and moving in.

7124 S. Becker Ct., far right, pictured here hanging out with its friends.

7124 S. Becker Ct., far right, pictured here hanging out with its friends.

“When the Reeds moved out last month, I was a little sad, but thought they might be coming back,” 7124 told The Teaspoon Times. “Then [neighboring house] 7132 told me what the sign out in my front yard meant—that I was for sale, and the Reeds would never return. After that, it just got worse. Now I’ve decided nothing would please me more than dying a quick, painless death.”

7124’s circle of friends, consisting of neighboring houses in the quiet suburban cul-de-sac, have sought to comfort the troubled house whenever possible. One friend, who asked to remain anonymous, said that 7124 is “usually a very sweet, house-next-door type, but lately has been nothing but a house of blues, what with the closed curtains and sullen demeanor and all.”

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Another friend, 7102 South Becker Court, said it baked a cake for its friend yesterday, and that although it had no way to bring it to 7124, “I let the aroma waft over in that direction.” 7102, who acknowledged being romantically involved with 7124 for a brief period of time in December of 2002, did not hold back praise for its friend. “’24 is an all-around great house,” 7102 went on, “but I was on the rebound at the time and looking for more of a fling than anything…and ’24 was…well, a very attractive house.”

One of 7124’s neighbors, 7110 South Becker Court, whose owner is a therapist, claimed it had learned enough about the symptoms of depression from its inhabitants to be able to offer its support to 7124. “I understand ’24’s emotional state to a tee,” said 7110. “Heck, I was there once myself, back in the eighties when that cold snap froze all my pipes. It was very painful and I didn’t see the point in going on, but eventually I thawed out and made it though. We houses are a strong lot. You know what they say: the odds always favor the house.”

7124 said it was considering several suicide methods, including developing a leak in its basement walls during a rainstorm in the hopes of growing mold, leaving the oven on for a few minutes and somehow creating a spark, or just waiting for tornado season and “hoping for a direct hit.”

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Man breaks wind, destroys airplane

by John Johnson, staff writer

RICHMOND, VA—In what has been described by local and national officials as “possibly the most astounding flatulatory event in all of recorded history,” pilot William Harper, 41, of Richmond broke wind in his airplane just after takeoff from Hanover County Municipal Airport on Monday afternoon, completely destroying the aircraft.

A Piper Seminole, shredded by a massive fart, sits in ruins Monday inside a hangar at Hanover County Municipal Airport in Virginia.

A Piper Seminole, shredded by a massive fart, sits in ruins Monday inside a hangar at Hanover County Municipal Airport in Virginia.

The 2000 Piper Seminole, capable of reaching altitudes of higher than 14,000 feet, was only at an altitude of three feet when the severely bloated Harper “ripped off the biggest fart I’ve ever heard in my entire life,” according to passenger Jon Kilbourne, 37. “We had just lifted off the ground, when suddenly he pinches one off—loud—and the entire plane just falls apart. Damn, that boy needs to control his gas.” Amazingly, neither Kilbourne nor Harper were seriously hurt.

“We’ve never seen anything like this,” said Sandra Metcalf, the National Transportation Safety Board agent in charge of investigating the accident. “I mean, my husband—um, passes gas a lot, but I’ve only ever seen the bedsheets puff out a little. To utterly destroy an aircraft such as the twin-engine Piper Seminole, there must have been some serious pressure built up in that bowel of his.”

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A spokesperson for The New Piper Aircraft Company, Inc. expressed surprise over the incident. “Our airplanes are thoroughly tested and designed to withstand even the harshest of nature’s often brutal forces—updrafts, downdrafts, crosswinds, and severe turbulence,” said Ken Middlefield, customer relations director for Piper. “Unfortunately, one cannot foresee every possible circumstance, and in the case of Mr. Harper, a two to three hundred knot wind originating inside the cockpit far exceeded the structural limits of the aircraft.

Middlefield expressed sympathy over the situation, and said his company would offer limited financial support to Harper, mainly for medical attention. “We’d like to see him seek medical help for his…well, his ass. I mean, come on, that’s just crazy.”

Although the NTSB is still investigating, the cause of the accident has thus far been classified as “pilot error.”

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Should I poison my boyfriend with gasoline?

Dear Mark,

I got a cup of hot chocolate at the gas station yesterday, and when I went to savor its aroma, I noticed it smelled a lot like gasoline. Of course, normally, I like the smell of gas, but not in my hot chocolate. Even worse, it also tasted like gas. Was there really gas in it? What’s the deal?

-Chris Lawrence
Orlando, FL

Mark Klein takes his wife, Laura, out for a cup of hot chocolate.

Mark Klein takes his wife, Laura, out for a cup of hot chocolate.

Every issue, readers from all over write in to ask our featured advice columnist pressing questions about a very specialized field. Whether they hope to resolve a dilemma or find a way out of their quandaries and quagmires, they get their answers here.

Today we are proud to feature Mark Klein, a Boston, Massachusetts, resident specializing in hot chocolate.

Dear Chris,

There’s an old saying that goes, “If it smells like gas, and tastes like gas, it must be gas.” Sometimes, especially at the larger gas stations, the gas pump lines overflow into the hot chocolate machine lines, and vice versa. That’s why so many people are driving around these days with high concentrations of hot chocolate in their gas tanks. But don’t go fretting about all the hot chocolate that’s getting into your engine—after all, your engine will probably long outlive you, especially after you’ve ingested all that gasoline.

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Dear Mark,

Every morning at breakfast, my boyfriend slurps the hell out of his hot chocolate. I’m not kidding when I say he slurps it loud enough to wake the dead. One time, his hot chocolate slurping actually did rouse our next door neighbors from their pre-dawn slumber, much to their extreme dissatisfaction. What steps should I take to get him to “can it?”

-Helen Pendleton
Edina, MN

Dear Helen,

A few drops of gasoline ought to do the trick.

The Teaspoon Times e-book: pick up a copy today!This and much more in my new 120-page e-book!
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Woman receives rejection letter from herself

by John Johnson, staff writer

DULUTH, MN-Julianne Cearly, President and sole employee of her newly self-founded greeting card company, Clearly Cearly Cards, received a rejection letter yesterday from Julianne Cearly, the president of the company, in response to several card ideas she had submitted two weeks earlier.

Julianne Cearly chops broccoli very aggressively on her kitchen counter in an effort to cope with her recent rejection.

Julianne Cearly chops broccoli very aggressively on her kitchen counter in an effort to cope with her recent rejection.

“To tell you the truth, this is a little awkward,” Cearly said. “And extremely disappointing, because I really wanted to use my own ideas for my card company. But apparently these high and mighty CEO types can’t be bothered with ideas from the little people.”

Sources close to Cearly are not sure whether this move was simply an inappropriate use of her new-found power as head of her own organization, or an indication of other psychological problems, such as low self-esteem or even split personality disorder.

“People reject their own ideas all the time, either consciously or subconsciously,” said nationally renowned psychologist Jan Nillson. “But actually going to the trouble of sending yourself a letter of rejection? That’s just weird. I’m sorry. But it is.”

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The ideas submitted by Cearly to herself included a greeting card whose front read, “To the love of my life, who loves to take naps,” and when opened, read, “Rest in peace, my love.” Another card was blank on the outside, and when opened, read, “You’re so hard to THANK that I just drew a BLANK.”

“This really puts me in a pickle,” said Cearly. “I’m not sure if I should start soliciting ideas from outside sources, or try submitting my ideas again. My original vision was to have as many greeting card ideas as possible come from within the company. But I guess that’s not going to happen now, is it?” Looking up and shaking a fist toward the ceiling, she went on: “Is it now, Cearly? Is it?”

Cearly, the company’s only shareholder, anticipates voting Cearly off the board of directors “in a landslide” next month.

“I’ll get you, my pretty,” Cearly said of Cearly. “And your little dog, too.”

The Teaspoon Times e-book: pick up a copy today!This and much more in my new 120-page e-book!
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