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In "The Funny Bone: Short Stories and Amusing Anecdotes for a Dull Hour," a diverse collective of authors presents a delightful anthology designed to evoke laughter and lighten the spirits of its readers. The compendium features a rich tapestry of comedic narratives, each capturing the nuances of human experience with wit and charm. Through a blend of short stories and humorous anecdotes, the writers employ a variety of literary styles—ranging from whimsical to satirical—ensuring that every page resonates with laughter while delivering poignant reflections on life's absurdities. The contributors to this anthology come from various backgrounds, each bringing their unique flair and perspective to the art of humor. Whether they are seasoned authors or emerging voices, their collective experiences underpin the themes of resilience, joy, and often, the irony of the human condition. Such eclecticism in background showcases the universality of humor, making it an appealing read for people from all walks of life, while also reflecting the changing patterns of society and culture in which these stories were crafted. For readers seeking respite from the mundanity of everyday life, "The Funny Bone" serves as a perfect antidote. It's a treasure trove of laughter that is ideal for leisurely reading, group gatherings, or simply to enrich one's day with joy. A testament to the enduring appeal of humor, this anthology invites readers to pause and enjoy the simple pleasures of life through the art of storytelling.
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Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022
Tew brake a mule—commence at his head.
In shooting at a deer that looks like a calf, always aim so as to miss it if it iz a calf, and to hit it if it iz a deer.
Tew git rid of cock-roaches—sell yure house, and lot, and flee tew the mountains.
Tew pick out a good husband—shut up both eyes, grab hard, and trust in the Lord.
There ain’t nothing that iz a sure kure for laziness, but i hav known a second wife tew hurry it sum.
Josh Billings Allminax.
It was his first banquet, and they were making speeches. Everybody was being called on for a speech, and he was in mortal terror, for he had never made a speech in his life. An old-timer at his side cruelly suggested that he “get under the table—or say a prayer.” His name was called and he got up with fear and trembling, and said:
“My friends, I never made a speech in all my life, and I’m just scared nearly to death. A friend here beside me has suggested two things for me to do—to get under the table, or to pray. Well, I couldn’t get under the table without observation, and now that I am on my feet, I can’t think of any other prayer to say except one that I used to hear my sister Mary say in the morning when mother called us—‘O Lord, how I do hate to get up!’”
When Benjamin F. Butler lived in Lowell, Massachusetts, he had a little black-and-tan dog. One morning, as he was coming down the street, followed by the dog, a policeman stopped him and told him that, in accordance with an ordinance just passed, he must muzzle the dog.
“Very well,” said Butler.
Next morning he came along with the dog, and the policeman again told him of the muzzling ordinance and requested him to muzzle the dog.
“All right,” snorted Butler. “It is a fool ordinance, but I’ll muzzle him. Let me pass.”
Next morning the policeman was on the lookout. “I beg your pardon, General,” he said, “but I must arrest you. Your dog is not muzzled.”
“Not muzzled?” shouted Butler. “Not muzzled? Well, look at him.”
The policeman looked more carefully at the dog and found a tiny, toy muzzle tied to its tail.
“General,” he expostulated, “this dog is not properly muzzled.”
“Yes, he is, sir,” asserted Butler. “Yes, he is. I have examined that idiotic statute and I find it says that every dog must wear a muzzle. It doesn’t say where the dog shall wear the muzzle, and I choose to decorate the tail of my dog instead of the head with this infernal contraption.”
“One day,” said General Howard, “Mr. Lincoln saw Senator Fessenden coming toward his office room. Mr. Fessenden had received the promise of some appointment in Maine for one of his constituents. The case had been overlooked. As soon as Mr. Lincoln caught sight of the Senator he saw he was angry, and called out: ‘Say, Fessenden, aren’t you an Episcopalian?’ Mr. Fessenden, somewhat taken aback, answered, ‘Yes, I belong to that persuasion, Mr. President.’ Mr. Lincoln then said, ‘I thought so. You swear so much like Seward. Seward is an Episcopalian. But, you ought to hear Stanton swear. He can beat you both. He is a Presbyterian.’”