‪My juggling class nickname is suddenly making a lot more sense.‬

An anonymous source shared this letter from a local college to its graduating seniors:

Dear Student,

Congratulations on your upcoming graduation from Bosworth University! We look forward to seeing you at the commencement ceremony. This will be an event that families, fellow students, and professors can all enjoy together. 

We hope.

Unfortunately, it’s been brought to our attention that some students may elect to go naked beneath their graduation robes in an activity called “hospital gown-ing.” While we appreciate high-spirited hijinks as much as the next university administration, it is our duty to inform you that graduating while naked runs counter to our school’s Mission Statement. (Please refer to the course catalog. It’s right there on page 17, after the section about the required senior thesis and before the warnings about proper cafeteria etiquette.)

We are reluctant to employ punitive measures at the commencement, so students caught “gown-ing” will not be stripped of their diplomas on the spot. Instead, we will award their ceremonial placeholders onstage along with everyone else’s. 

The subsequent mailing of the actual diplomas, however, will not occur.

You may wonder, “But how would you even know if I were nude beneath my robe?” Good question. Consider two factors: your robe is made of the sheerest polyester fabric, and the commencement stage is located at our outdoor amphitheater . . . aka “the Wind Tunnel.” 

Imagine waiting in excitement to mount the stairs to the stage. Your full given name is called, and as you stride forth, your image appears on the Jumbotron screen for all of the assembled guests to witness. Photos are taken, videos roll, and just then, you’re hit by a sudden gust of wind. Your flimsy robe wraps tightly against your body, like cling wrap stretched across a platter of holiday leftovers. 

A child cries out in alarm, and then another, even as an elderly gentleman in the front row clutches his chest and requires medical attention.

So yes, we will know that you are “au naturel.” EVERYONE will know.

And while we’re on this subject, there are a number of other behaviors that will result in the withholding of your diploma, including the following:

— Zooming the commencement speaker with a drone

— Soliciting contributions to your GoFundMe campaign to pay off student loans

— Having more than three overdue library books

— Throwing your mortarboard Frisbee-style at the professor who gave you a C- in Anthropology 205

— Cosplay

— Carrying signs of an overtly political nature

— Carrying graduate students of an overtly political nature

— Spraying silly string on the Vice Chancellor 

— Promising to stay in touch with classmates, even as your conscience recoils at such a blatant falsehood

— (Business School graduates only) Excessive alumni schmoozing

If this list seems overly prohibitive, please feel free to do whatever you wish with your tassel. (Nobody really understands the rule regarding tassels anyway.)

Thank you very much for your attention on this matter. We look forward to seeing you — but just the decent bits — at the ceremony. And once again, congratulations on your achievement!

Cordially yours,

The Bosworth University Graduation Committee

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I'm in McSweeney's!

My piece, "Philip Marlowe, Zumba Leader," is up over at the humor site, McSweeney's. I am very happy about this.

(Don't know what Philip Marlowe or Zumba are? Check those links!)

Hey, I wrote an article!

I had the good luck to work at Powell's Books for the holidays, and I wrote an article about it for the Oregonian. (I've also included the full text of the article below.)

"And then the murders began."

So a writer named Marc Laidlaw had an interesting idea:

The first line of almost any story can be improved by making sure the second line is, "And then the murders began."

— Marc Laidlaw (@marc_laidlaw) March 3, 2017

Let's try it out! Here's a few beginnings that you might recognize:

“I wonder what Piglet is doing," thought Pooh. And then the murders began.

 —————————

One sunny Sunday, the caterpillar was hatched out of a tiny egg. He was very hungry. And then the murders began.

  —————————

"Christmas won't be Christmas without any presents," grumbled Jo, lying on the rug. And then the murders began.

  —————————

"Where's Papa going with that axe?” said Fern to her mother. And then the murders began.

  —————————

Imagine you’re in a dark room. And then the murders began. 

(Okay, I sort of cheated. That last one was from THE DRAKE EQUATION!)

UMBRELLAS ARE FOR WIMPS!

Twice in the last two days, I've got soaked by major cloudbursts. 

But at least that reminded me of an article I wrote for the Oregonian 18 years ago. They didn't use my title, but I called it:

UMBRELLAS ARE FOR WIMPS!

         I have found that rainy days are excellent opportunities to research information and stay active indoors. For example, there is nothing like learning about our country’s official state mottoes to stir the blood and fire the imagination. America is replete with simple and inspirational state mottoes that smack of great deeds and stalwart souls: “It is forever” (Idaho), “I lead” (Maine), and “Live free or die” (New Hampshire). A few states elected to have slogans that are more open to interpretation, like Maryland’s “Manly deeds, womanly words.” Washington’s selection of “By and by” sounds like the mantra of a lazy fisherman, but it does serve to make the Oregon state motto of “She flies with her own wings,” look good in comparison. Although it is a noble-sounding sentiment, I suspect that like myself, most Oregonians have no inkling as to what our slogan means. (After all, if we are going to fly, whose wings would we use?) I like our unofficial state motto a lot more: Umbrellas are for wimps.

         The evolution of this state-wide philosophy regarding umbrella usage is interesting to speculate on. Our history of persistent but relatively light rainfall combined with our settlement by testosterone-riddled lumberjacks have led to a studied indifference on the part of modern Oregonians regarding umbrellas. They are seen as fripperies for out-of-staters and the faint of heart. As my dad always light-heartedly says from the drenched locale of Astoria, “A little water never hurt anyone . . . unless they contract pneumonia.”

         But this season, conditions will apparently be even wetter than usual for Oregon, perhaps forcing some of us to change our lofty habits. Winter’s meteorological conditions have always been awe-inspiring. They are responsible for the first myths, as early hunter-gatherers huddled together around a fire peering upwards at dark clouds with a sense of wonder and fear. The storm gods inspired by wintry thunderheads were fierce and wrathful, and their very names inspired respect: Zeus, Thor, La Niña.

         Perhaps you are not impressed by La Niña’s moniker, and you don’t think you need to batten down the hatches for “The Little Girl.” Do not be so hasty in your underestimation. Just as the ancient Greeks named the avenging Furies who whipped sinful souls in the afterlife “The Kindly Ones,” so too did meteorologists employ their own twisted form of weather-inspired humor in innocently naming this winter’s storm pattern La Niña. So impressed am I by this little girl, I am going to do something this winter that I have always had too much self-respect to do before: I am going to use an umbrella.

         I can almost hear your gasps of surprise, but before you rush to judgment, let me make my case. Let me begin by stating that I am a grown man and in full control of my mental faculties. Having followed the alarmist long-term weather forecasts that the local media barrages us with, I know that now is not the time for false heroics regarding umbrella usage. Also, as a bald man who wears glasses, I am in a state of double-jeopardy regarding rainfall. (For those of you who have had the disconcerting experience of having a drop of water fall precisely on the crown of your head, imagine that sensation multiplied a thousand-fold and you will have an idea of what the pitter-pat of rain on my cranium feels like.)

         I intend to defiantly open up my umbrella and use it both as a shield against La Niña and as a shield from the contemptuous glances of sodden pedestrians doggedly slogging their own proud but soggy paths. I will tell myself that it is better to be ashamed and dry than righteous and miserable. If the people of any other geographical region can commiserate with we Oregonians, it would be the English, who also suffer their fair share of overcast days. To paraphrase the English judge, Lord Bowen:

         It rains down both on the proud

         And also the shameful fella.

         But chiefly on the proud, because

         The shameful aren’t afraid to use an umbrella.

Check out my best skateboarding trick!

It's Bad Humor Sunday: All These Jokes Must GO!

"Detective, the murder victim may have been poisoned by flan. The lab tests will be done soon." "So—the proof is in the pudding."

— Bart King (@BartKing) December 13, 2015

A crow goes shopping in Boston: "Will this be cash?" "No, put it on my credit cawed."

— Bart King (@BartKing) December 13, 2015

Job Interview: "What are your hobbies?" "I love peanut butter." "OK, anything else—" [sets peanut butter jar on desk] "I REALLY LOVE IT."

— Bart King (@BartKing) December 10, 2015

Just realized that any humor concocted under a roof is an "inside joke." *mind blown*

— Bart King (@BartKing) December 10, 2015

"We can see this is a disaster site, and we're here to help. But first – stick 'em up!" —A visit from the Red Double-Cross.

— Bart King (@BartKing) December 13, 2015

You'll never believe this...

This morning, I walked past the street sign below . . . and a crown mysteriously appeared on my head.

BTW, if you're old enough to remember this old Imperial Margarine ad, you're much too mature to be reading this lousy blog!

Chuck always wanted to be a personal trainer...

So he added his bio to the 24 Hour Fitness roster! 

(Via Obvious Plant.)

I'm not too late for Valentine's Day, am I?

An artist named Jack Davis did the artwork for these Topps Bumblegum cards back in the 1960s. The dude was a genius!

Hey, wait a minute...

Oh, I guess that's okay!

Scotty "Funky Gal" Harvey is my hero—and should be yours, too

This is the photo that ran on her "senior page"...

Assembly Coordinator

"I didn't come her to make friends. I came here to win."

This is funny!

Kids today seem older than they used to be.

Via.

Letters to the Editor Hall of Fame

Thanks, John Scrivens!

Want to read a really funny article I wrote?

Too bad! All I have is this lousy one that was in the Oregonian this weekend.

Now HERE'S a useful book!

Mothballing Your Battleship (with Troy McClure!) via. 

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.

Firstly, thou art gluten free!

Unencumbered by the clutches of a substance present in cereal grains, especially wheat, that is responsible for the elastic texture of dough.

(Graphic via.)

This is why you should always buck-le up.

Or as my friend Donna said, "D'oe!" (Via.)