“Days after being awarded the literature prize, Bob Dylan has yet to get in touch with the Swedish Academy, or indicate whether he will attend the celebrations.”
– The Guardian, Oct 17, 2016
Swedes! Who do they think they are, thinking that a guy will roll out of bed in the middle of the night just to pick up the phone. Or that he’ll return the call right after he wakes up. Or the next day. It’s not like the world revolves around the Nobel Prize, you know. Here are 25 things that could have kept Bob Dylan from getting back to the Swedish Academy.
King of Sweden
Here are the 10 best pen names inspired by signs that I saw on the road between Toronto, ON and Saint Joseph, MI.
About 53 percent of searches Americans make for jokes are for light or corny jokes — searches like “fun jokes,” “kids jokes” or “dad jokes.’”
— New York Times, May 14, 2016
Dad jokes are the best, don’tcha think? You know that nothing makes me laugh like dad jokes, because they’re always funny, because dads rock – oh yeah! – and because they’re mine.
But you already know dad jokes are the best, that’s why you spend so much time on Google, searching for dad jokes, and I can only assume that you do it to “snap” them to your buddies. But while Google is fine for basic research, it’s got its limitations so for true understanding of dad jokes you need to get it from dad. And here I am.
How do you come up with your dad jokes, you ask? How can dad always be so funny? What is a great dad joke? Glad you asked. Let me me dadsplain them to you.
“Hey,” he said, startling me. We had been sitting in my room silently for so long that I had forgotten that Mikey was there. I’m pretty sure he had been there, sitting in my room, reading comics and listening to music, while I had gone to the kitchen and made a sandwich (ham and cheese, my favorite).
“Hey,” Mikey said again.
“Hey,” I said.
We were up to three heys there, and I’m not sure even one was needed.
“Well-Known Local Orchestra Available for New Year’s Eve due to cancellation.
Dial 5-1595 or 3-4454”
– Reading Eagle, Dec 6, 1952
I wouldn’t say there was panic in the air, but the guys were a little agitated. And understandably so. We had been looking forward to the New Year’s Eve gig for weeks and we had added two new songs onto our set list so that we could play for over an hour.
Today was the day. The D day. Da D Day. The day my plan finally came into fruition. Which one of them, you ask? The one in which I stand in the middle of the street in downtown Stockholm, and stop all traffic.
There once was a man who couldn’t make decisions. He’d get up in the morning and then dive straight back under the covers.
“It was nice to get up, but it’s even nicer here,” he said to himself. “On the other hand, I can’t stay here all day … or can I?”
Ten minutes later, he got up and stumbled downstairs to kitchen. The rest of his family was already sitting at the table.
“Good morning, everybody,” said the man who couldn’t make decisions. “Oh, that looks good,” he said, pointing to his son’s bowl of cereal.
“And that!” he shouted, and pointed at his wife’s bowl of fruit. “And that!” he said, now looking at his daughter’s toast.
The man who couldn’t make decisions had a bowl of fruit, a bowl of cereal, and a sandwich for breakfast. He pulled up the newspaper his wife had left for him on the table and started to read about a football game two teams had played the day before.
The other day, I sort of decided to write a blog entry every day for the entire … well, for a while, and I just realized it’s time for me to go to bed, and the page is still blank.