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Archive for February, 2012

A look back at a superbe comedy routine.

This comedy routine was created somewhere in the 1930s by Bud Abbot and Lou Costello. It’s a gem which stands the test of time. It involves a new baseball team with unusual names for the players.


“Who’s on First”

(Lou Costello is considering becoming a ballplayer. Bud Abbott wants to make sure he knows what he’s getting into.)


Abbott: Strange as it may seem, they give ball players nowadays very peculiar names.

Costello: Funny names?

Abbott: Nicknames, nicknames. Now, on the St. Louis team we have Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know is on third–

Costello: That’s what I want to find out. I want you to tell me the names of the fellows on the St. Louis team.

Abbott: I’m telling you. Who’s on first, What’s on second, I Don’t Know is on third–

Costello: You know the fellows’ names?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: Well, then who’s playing first?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: I mean the fellow’s name on first base.

Abbott: Who.

Costello: The fellow playin’ first base.

Abbott: Who.

Costello: The guy on first base.

Abbott: Who is on first.

Costello: Well, what are you askin’ me for?

Abbott: I’m not asking you–I’m telling you. Who is on first.

Costello: I’m asking you–who’s on first?

Abbott: That’s the man’s name.

Costello: That’s who’s name?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: When you pay off the first baseman every month, who gets the money?

Abbott: Every dollar of it. And why not, the man’s entitled to it.

Costello: Who is?

Abbott: Yes.

Costello: So who gets it?

Abbott: Why shouldn’t he? Sometimes his wife comes down and collects it.

Costello: Who’s wife?

Abbott: Yes. After all, the man earns it.

Costello: Who does?

Abbott: Absolutely.

Costello: Well, all I’m trying to find out is what’s the guy’s name on first base?

Abbott: Oh, no, no. What is on second base.

Costello: I’m not asking you who’s on second.

Abbott: Who’s on first!

Costello: St. Louis has a good outfield?

Abbott: Oh, absolutely.

Costello: The left fielder’s name?

Abbott: Why.

Costello: I don’t know, I just thought I’d ask.

Abbott: Well, I just thought I’d tell you.

Costello: Then tell me who’s playing left field?

Abbott: Who’s playing first.

Costello: Stay out of the infield! The left fielder’s name?

Abbott: Why.

Costello: Because.

Abbott: Oh, he’s center field.

Costello: Wait a minute. You got a pitcher on this team?

Abbott: Wouldn’t this be a fine team w i t h o u t a pitcher?

Costello: Tell me the pitcher’s name.

Abbott: Tomorrow.

Costello: Now, when the guy at bat bunts the ball–me being a good catcher–I want to throw the guy out at first base, so I pick up the ball and throw it to who?

Abbott: Now, that’s he first thing you’ve said right.


Abbott: Don’t get excited. Take it easy.

Costello: I throw the ball to first base, whoever it is grabs the ball, so the guy runs to second. Who picks up the ball and throws it to what. What throws it to I don’t know. I don’t know throws it back to tomorrow–a triple play.

Abbott: Yeah, it could be.

Costello: Another guy gets up and it’s a long ball to center.

Abbott: Because.

Costello: Why? I don’t know. And I don’t care.

Abbott: What was that?

Costello: I said, I DON’T CARE!

Abbott: Oh, that’s our shortstop!


Watch out fellows.

Here’s something to chew on.

This is a piece by guest blogger, Woody Brooks.

I met my friend Ralph again today. We usually meet every ­­­Sunday morning at a local coffee shop. We shoot the breeze over a couple of double mocha lattes and donuts. He likes the apple filled, I prefer the chocolate iced.

Ralph’s old and alone. He likes to talk, joke and poke fun at people.

Today, he was proud as could be. He flashed me the biggest smile I can remember. I couldn’t believe my eyes. His rather large lips parted like a stage curtain on opening night, only up and down, not sideways. They revealed a new set of dentures. Not the ordinary kind that you see in ads on television or in dentists offices. These baby’s were authentic Billy Bob teeth. If you don’t know what Billy Bob teeth are, look it up. You may like them too.

“They’re certainly eye catching,” I said.

“You’re right, Woody. I can’t keep the woman away from me since I started wearing ’em.”


“Cross my heart, it’s true. You like ’em? I mean the teeth, not the women.”

“Outside of the fact they look like a fence with a couple of boards missing, they’re all right. Do you actually use them, or is this another one of your put-ons?”

He laughed. “Put-on? Dentures? You like put ’em on? That’s funny.”

“Thanks, Ralph.”

“Guess where I got ’em?”

“I don’t know. Denture World, Dentures R Us? The Bass Pro Shop?”

“No. I got ’em at the dollar store in the Palmetto Mall. It’s the place with all the abandoned stores, except for that Dollarama, Spencer’s Gifts and Hot topic.”

“I know the place.”

Guess what I paid for ’em?”

I had to be careful. Ralph had a way with trick questions.

“You mean the women or the teeth?

“The teeth you idiot.”

“I’d say you paid about a dollar seven.”

“Clever boy, I thought I’d catch you on the sales tax. You’re too smart for me. Can’t fool college people.”

“You’d be surprised how often college grads get fooled every day by the government alone.”

“I hear you.”

“What  made you buy Billy Bob’s in the first place? You have your own set of choppers from that DDS in Winter Garden.”

“Well just between us, those dentures  never fit right. They were loose. They clacked like a duck’s bill. They made my eyes tear up whenever I bit into an ear of sweet corn or a hard nut. But, these Billy Bob’s fit just great. No clacking. No ducks following me around anymore. I can even bite into an apple like they do in those TV commercials about that Polident glue. And, they’re cheap. I bought a  dozen of them, just in case.”

“Just in case?”

“In case I swallow ’em, or sit on ’em or lose ’em, or something.”

“Swallow them?”

“You never know. I was a boy scout. I have to be prepared for anything.” He showed me another set of Billy’s still in their blister pack, and his official Boy Scouts of America membership card dated June 1st, 1942.

“Are you sure these are safe to put into your mouth?”

“Why wouldn’t they be safe, amigo?”

“They were made in China. There is a warning on the back which says these teeth should not be put into your mouth. There’s also a choking warning for kids under three. And, the teeth fall apart when wet.”

“Yeah, nice try, but I’m not buying any of that.”

“It’s true. See for yourself. There’s also a warning about lead paint used in the manufacturing of the teeth.” I gave him the package.

“Lead schmed. I like ’em, and I’m gonna use ’em. You can’t talk me out of it.”

We sat there for a while in cool silence, eating our sugar laden breakfast treats and sipping hot coffee.

Ralph sprung up from his seat. “Son of a…”

“What’s wrong buddy? You okay?”

“I just swallowed my Billy Bob’s. They dissolved like a sugar cube. I bet the hot java had something to do with it. I’ll probably die from lead poisoning. I’m going to sue this joint for everything they got, like that woman who spilled hot coffee in her lap.”

“Take it easy. Remember the warnings on the package? Your claims wouldn’t have a chance in court.”

“I think I’m going to be sick.” He ran to the restroom. Dozens of curious faces followed Ralph’s roaring rush.

Henrietta, the manager, came over to me. “Is Ralph all right? ”

“He’ll be okay. He just swallowed his Billy Bob teeth.”

“Not again. I warned him about them two days ago.”

I laughed. “When he comes out, tell him I’ll see him next week.”

My First Pair of Crocs

Having problems with fine print? Hire this guy.

For Ed, My Blog Brother To Be.

This a comment I made on the Aberrant Pen. It’s a wordpress blog at, Sometimes I take things too literal. When two words in his post caught my eye, it got me to thinking, perhaps to aberrantly.

Ed, You must give me extra credit for posting a comment. It took me the better part of an hour just scrolling down to find this tiny box to write these few words. I found something most interesting, or is it odd? I copied and pasted it so I wouldn’t get it wrong. At the very end, or maybe just the end, (I’m not sure the word “very” really makes a difference), you said, “I’m all ears.”

I got to thinking of that statement, and I began to visualize your plight. After seconds of sobbing over it, I thought I would write this comment and brighten your day. Since you have no eyes to read it yourself, I hope there is someone available to do so. Maybe you can get one of those helper dogs, or a maybe helper monkey like Homer had on The Simpsons.

My, my you are, “all ears”. I take it that the photos of yourself you posted on your blog were taken before your terrible transition to “all ears”? Then again the pictures could be like the ones we find in a new wallet, or a photo frame at one of those shops which carry such paraphernalia. (I think it’s safe to categorize photo frames as paraphernalia. Do you agree, Ed?).

But, I’m getting off point. I would imagine being, “all ears” would qualify you to be in “Ripley’s Believe it or Not”, or perhaps in the “Guinness Book of World Records”. Then again, we might find you as the subject of those Mystery Diagnosis episodes on one of those cable networks. Check them out, they could bring you fame and  fortune, maybe even a cure after scores of transplant surgeries. Then again there is always the side-show at the carnival. Have you ever seen the show, “Oddities?”  You’d fit right in, my boy.

Then again, have you ever thought of starting an “All Ears” support group? Now that I think of it, that might not work. There would have to be others with your condition. I don’t know the stats on that, Ed. Perhaps you do.

Maybe you can do a post of what life is like being “all ears”. You can tell us about the trials, the challenges, the tribulations, your first date, what school was like, how you eat, how you go to the bathroom, is your car specially equipped just for you, what do you do when you have an itch, can you have children the natural way, stuff real people would like to know. I know I’d be all over that post like ear wax pressing on an ear drum, to use an analogy you must be familiar with.

Being new to blogging, I’m not sure how long these comments should be. I guess I’ll go now and leave you to your listening. BTW speaking of Lent, I think Saint Auria, is the patron of those who suffer from “all ears” syndrome. I’ll be praying for you, Ed. If you ever need Q-Tips, you can find me at I too have a blog called, Humorous Interludes. I’m all eyes. Maybe we should meet and collaborate?

P.S. I decided to follow your blog now. I have to know what happens to you. I’ll keep checking “Mad Magazine” as well.

P.P.S. ((That’s also a nasty thought. PPS?) I mentioned your blog in my blog, now we can be blog brothers like in the old west only we won’t use knives, just our sharp wits.

Is This the Frog who was a Monarch Earlier?

I’m not nervous about our first date, I had butterflies for lunch that’s all.

Thank Your Lucky Stars

You think you have it bad.

I have to buy 373 birthday gifts for my kids for the same day.

A Big Thank You

A big THANK YOU to:  moviegarden,, and  thesquareflea,  who just subscribed to The Humous Interludes blog.

I’m grateful to you, and all my blogging family for your comments and vote of confidence. Go Bloggers! I wish the best of everything to you.

A Frog’s Tale

Really, I used to be a prince until I met a wicked witch.

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