And you just afdefcto their ptoblems by your very stupid attempt to make a ha ha. Somethings that come to mind should be rejected as not suitable for certain decent members of your audience. Everyone who attempts humor should be mindful of this.
Mr.. Horn, I think you hit the nail on the head. Yes, Marcel was a true to life Frenchman. It's nonsense, from an eighty year old humorist sitting in his PJ's at his kitchen table drinking a hot beverage making outlandish statements about events long ago. It sounds right to me.
I hope to do the same at that age. Have a lovely day, I think that Garrison will.
I used to go to an office to do my employed work. I liked the comradery of my workmates. Playful yet productive. We joked, shared stories and opinions, laughed, listened to music or donned headphones and went into our own little world. Despite our antics, we always got our work done in a timely manner. We usually went to lunch together on payday and bitched about the work over pizza and a Coke. Old friends would resign and go to better employment and be replaced by stiff, humorless serious overzealous dolts who found our workplace antics less than amusing that betrayed the meaning of the word employment. Buzzkills, and eventually these stiff suits replaced everyone and going to the office became dreadful. I always figured if I'm going to spend 8 hours of my life every day, 5 days a week doing something I don't want to do, I may as well have fun while I'm not enjoying doing it. Damn career types ruined it for everyone.
Then the internet became a thing and the next thing you know they're telling me that I can work from home if I want. Oh, really? So at the end of 2018 I began working from home 3 days a week. Then in mid-2019 I was full time from home and to this day I still enjoy that quiet solitude in my home office. I still get dressed in something resembling southern work attire if my job was to deliver drinks to people around my pool or as a professional dog walker. Most days I'm in shorts and t-shirt that has a drawing of a motorcycle on it with the caption "Mobil Device". My co-worker now is our 4-year old golden retriever "Rosie" who lays right next to the wheels on my chair, prohibiting me from moving. She knows what she's doing, making sure daddy doesn't go anywhere.
Occasionally I'll have conversations with co-workers via Microsoft Teams and I'll entertain them with silly made up stories about crotchety curmudgeons and the Harbingers of Doom Quilting Club made up of Hell's Angels members and grandmothers from the Edmeston NY board of education. But those moments are few and far between. Ah, the good old days.
So, just get up in the morning and put your big boy pants on, fix your hair and check your nose. Make yourself and your bride feel like you have something important to do, like write another Lake Wobegon story, I sense you have a few more in you.
Thank you, again and again Garrison. I'm going to assume that most if not all of todays words are true. Your finger in the eye to those that are disturbed when seeing the ax thrower no matter the gender or nationality is nothing less then fresh air for me today. Thanks again you amazing human.
so true, so true. work has never been what we remember it to be. I'm starting to believe that if they point the Webb telescope back at us there won't be any signs of life.
Flatulenteur? So, that's what my buddies and I were in high school? With that moniker, our status as keepers of The Fart Machine in the movie theater would've soared.
A sincere question for you Garrison. Your posted schedule of shows would be grueling even for a completely healthy 80 year old. Not to mention exposure to Covid that is still killing 400 people a day in this country. You just had a heart operation. Why are you putting such pressure on yourself? I understand that show biz is life. I've been an actor, director, writer and producer for decades, but, of course, with nowhere near the success you have had. I understand how important that kind of life can be to one. I'm 74. Not 80, but close to it. And reasonably healthy with no major issues. I would find your schedule to be extremely taxing, and unless I was hard up for capital, wouldn't think of it. Why do you? We'd like to keep you around for quite a while longer, and that doesn't need to be on a stage. Your writing is brilliant as always. You've adjusted to NYC which is a taxing enough thing to do by itself. Please take care, and maybe cut back a bit, or a lot, or completely, on travel for shows. There's plenty of that on recordings, we don't need for you to kill yourself giving us, or yourself, even more. Keep writing, don't get sedentary, but perhaps more care about what you willingly put yourself through is in order. We like to be reading your new creations at 100. Please allow that to be a more credible possibility. Okay, I'll shut up now. Actually no I won't. Sure it's none of my business. But really...
Missing being someone with obligations and expectations was your admission of being old like the rest of us octanagerians but describing your musical flatulence demonstrates either extreme courage or a failure to remember unannounced incontinence is another consequence of being old.
Clearly Garrison is mourning the passing of the Ed Sullivan Show, too: ropes and bananas on noses. Didn’t mention Topo Gigio, but still. And clearly he should not eat onions near an open flame.
I am at the office standing at my desk, right now, applauding enthusiastically while I whistle and lead a chant of "GAR-ri-SON, GAR-ri-SON, GAR-ri-SON!"
Entertainment is not easy to come by these days. Thanks.
I like your writing because it makes me snort. Lots of laughs too, but the snorts are the Oscar, the Nobel, the Pulitzer Prize of funny.
I was the curator at the National Quilt Museum for many years. Today, to curate a museum exhibit, you must illustrate relevance to underserved populations, have an educational component, and pay homage to a bunch of other stuff. I like all that, and it’s all important. But sometimes I just wanted to put up quilts that move me the way Cassatt’s ‘The Boating Party’ at the National Gallery of Art moves me, in hopes that they will move someone else.
When I hung out in the galleries, I would tell visitors, “Pick out the one quilt that you want to take home with you, if you could.” Then they actually LOOKED at the quilts.
Humor should be the same way. If you have to think about it for 10 minutes, it ain’t funny. My snorts indicate I was moved. Maybe not transcendentally. But immediately, so fast I snorted.
Keep it coming, Mr. Keillor, whether in a suit, your jammies, or Bermuda shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and socks with sandals.
The National Quilt Museum in Louisville KY? Visited with my late wife in '04. Left Princeton MN after a sleet storm and the redbuds were blooming in KY. The museum was great. My wife was a quilter, handmade quilts on all the beds and walls -- I live in a quilt museum -- plus many more donated to charity.
My sister has been making quilts for almost 50 years and has won quite a few awards for them. She has given some to relatives, but keeps most of them, many of which are real works of art. What is the address of the quilt museum? She might want to donate some when she is older if her daughters don't want them. Can you give estimates of the value so the donor can get a tax deduction.
Marcel Marceau was French. He was in the resistance during the 2nd World War.
Why did you spout such nonsense?
If you were trying to be funny. You were not.
There are people out there who believe this nonsense. I genuinely like you
I think someone may have spiked your Ovaltine.
Take care. Our crumbling world needs your ilk.
Everyone knows he was French. Anyone who believes he was from Pittsburgh has worse problems.
But what if you’re from Pittsburg? To have your hopes raised and then dashed?
Do you mean Pittsburg, New Hampshire? Quite a few French speakers there, outnumbered only by moose, though maybe most of them speak it, too
And you just afdefcto their ptoblems by your very stupid attempt to make a ha ha. Somethings that come to mind should be rejected as not suitable for certain decent members of your audience. Everyone who attempts humor should be mindful of this.
No one is perfect all of the time.
Be well.
Sir, something is troubling you terribly and I can't figure out what it is. I hope you're okay.
Mr.. Horn, I think you hit the nail on the head. Yes, Marcel was a true to life Frenchman. It's nonsense, from an eighty year old humorist sitting in his PJ's at his kitchen table drinking a hot beverage making outlandish statements about events long ago. It sounds right to me.
I hope to do the same at that age. Have a lovely day, I think that Garrison will.
Thank you.... with gratitude that your funny bone was not removed or replaced with that of a sourpuss.
A wonderful, hilarious, and smart piece. No one else writes like you, Garrison. I love waking up to your columns. R. L. Stine
With rumblings peptic and enteric
Gary struggled heroically to nail a trick.
With all said and done
He had had tons of fun—
And he finally farted a limerick.
Given your new profession, I thought I would pass the following along:
There once was a young man from Sparta
Who was one hell of a farta.
He’d fart anything
From ‘God Save the King’
To Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata.
He’d warm up with a gavotta,
Move on to the ‘Coffee Cantata’,
Then he’d boom from his ass
Bach’s B Minor Mass,
While in counterpoint La Traviata.
Best Regards to you and yours.
Joseph Pujol pales in comparison Garrison.
Brilliantly funny nonsense from you, albeit flying over the heads of some!
I used to go to an office to do my employed work. I liked the comradery of my workmates. Playful yet productive. We joked, shared stories and opinions, laughed, listened to music or donned headphones and went into our own little world. Despite our antics, we always got our work done in a timely manner. We usually went to lunch together on payday and bitched about the work over pizza and a Coke. Old friends would resign and go to better employment and be replaced by stiff, humorless serious overzealous dolts who found our workplace antics less than amusing that betrayed the meaning of the word employment. Buzzkills, and eventually these stiff suits replaced everyone and going to the office became dreadful. I always figured if I'm going to spend 8 hours of my life every day, 5 days a week doing something I don't want to do, I may as well have fun while I'm not enjoying doing it. Damn career types ruined it for everyone.
Then the internet became a thing and the next thing you know they're telling me that I can work from home if I want. Oh, really? So at the end of 2018 I began working from home 3 days a week. Then in mid-2019 I was full time from home and to this day I still enjoy that quiet solitude in my home office. I still get dressed in something resembling southern work attire if my job was to deliver drinks to people around my pool or as a professional dog walker. Most days I'm in shorts and t-shirt that has a drawing of a motorcycle on it with the caption "Mobil Device". My co-worker now is our 4-year old golden retriever "Rosie" who lays right next to the wheels on my chair, prohibiting me from moving. She knows what she's doing, making sure daddy doesn't go anywhere.
Occasionally I'll have conversations with co-workers via Microsoft Teams and I'll entertain them with silly made up stories about crotchety curmudgeons and the Harbingers of Doom Quilting Club made up of Hell's Angels members and grandmothers from the Edmeston NY board of education. But those moments are few and far between. Ah, the good old days.
So, just get up in the morning and put your big boy pants on, fix your hair and check your nose. Make yourself and your bride feel like you have something important to do, like write another Lake Wobegon story, I sense you have a few more in you.
Thank you, again and again Garrison. I'm going to assume that most if not all of todays words are true. Your finger in the eye to those that are disturbed when seeing the ax thrower no matter the gender or nationality is nothing less then fresh air for me today. Thanks again you amazing human.
so true, so true. work has never been what we remember it to be. I'm starting to believe that if they point the Webb telescope back at us there won't be any signs of life.
Flatulenteur? So, that's what my buddies and I were in high school? With that moniker, our status as keepers of The Fart Machine in the movie theater would've soared.
A sincere question for you Garrison. Your posted schedule of shows would be grueling even for a completely healthy 80 year old. Not to mention exposure to Covid that is still killing 400 people a day in this country. You just had a heart operation. Why are you putting such pressure on yourself? I understand that show biz is life. I've been an actor, director, writer and producer for decades, but, of course, with nowhere near the success you have had. I understand how important that kind of life can be to one. I'm 74. Not 80, but close to it. And reasonably healthy with no major issues. I would find your schedule to be extremely taxing, and unless I was hard up for capital, wouldn't think of it. Why do you? We'd like to keep you around for quite a while longer, and that doesn't need to be on a stage. Your writing is brilliant as always. You've adjusted to NYC which is a taxing enough thing to do by itself. Please take care, and maybe cut back a bit, or a lot, or completely, on travel for shows. There's plenty of that on recordings, we don't need for you to kill yourself giving us, or yourself, even more. Keep writing, don't get sedentary, but perhaps more care about what you willingly put yourself through is in order. We like to be reading your new creations at 100. Please allow that to be a more credible possibility. Okay, I'll shut up now. Actually no I won't. Sure it's none of my business. But really...
Perhaps a Garrison Keillor & Friends podcast, live from his kitchen?
Missing being someone with obligations and expectations was your admission of being old like the rest of us octanagerians but describing your musical flatulence demonstrates either extreme courage or a failure to remember unannounced incontinence is another consequence of being old.
Great name for a band, Lucky. Unannounced Incontinence.
Isn't the November 6 show in West Bend, Wisconsin- not in IL?
Clearly Garrison is mourning the passing of the Ed Sullivan Show, too: ropes and bananas on noses. Didn’t mention Topo Gigio, but still. And clearly he should not eat onions near an open flame.
I am at the office standing at my desk, right now, applauding enthusiastically while I whistle and lead a chant of "GAR-ri-SON, GAR-ri-SON, GAR-ri-SON!"
Entertainment is not easy to come by these days. Thanks.
I like your writing because it makes me snort. Lots of laughs too, but the snorts are the Oscar, the Nobel, the Pulitzer Prize of funny.
I was the curator at the National Quilt Museum for many years. Today, to curate a museum exhibit, you must illustrate relevance to underserved populations, have an educational component, and pay homage to a bunch of other stuff. I like all that, and it’s all important. But sometimes I just wanted to put up quilts that move me the way Cassatt’s ‘The Boating Party’ at the National Gallery of Art moves me, in hopes that they will move someone else.
When I hung out in the galleries, I would tell visitors, “Pick out the one quilt that you want to take home with you, if you could.” Then they actually LOOKED at the quilts.
Humor should be the same way. If you have to think about it for 10 minutes, it ain’t funny. My snorts indicate I was moved. Maybe not transcendentally. But immediately, so fast I snorted.
Keep it coming, Mr. Keillor, whether in a suit, your jammies, or Bermuda shorts, a Hawaiian shirt, and socks with sandals.
The National Quilt Museum in Louisville KY? Visited with my late wife in '04. Left Princeton MN after a sleet storm and the redbuds were blooming in KY. The museum was great. My wife was a quilter, handmade quilts on all the beds and walls -- I live in a quilt museum -- plus many more donated to charity.
I believe the National Quilt Museum is in Bowling Green, KY. Stopped there once while on a river cruise boat.
My sister has been making quilts for almost 50 years and has won quite a few awards for them. She has given some to relatives, but keeps most of them, many of which are real works of art. What is the address of the quilt museum? She might want to donate some when she is older if her daughters don't want them. Can you give estimates of the value so the donor can get a tax deduction.