Now That's Funny!: Jokes and Stories from the Man Who Keeps America Laughing

by Andy Simmons

  And then Pooh smiled, for he knew then how he should invest his small fortune. He would not shutter a small company like Rabbit. And he certainly would not become a day trader like Tigger. No, Pooh knew exactly what to do.

  From high above his perch in the visitor’s gallery, he opened all seventeen pots of honey and spilled them over the rail, drippley-drappley, onto the computers and stock tickers below. The honey oozed over the circuit boards. It smothered the silicon chips. It slithered into the hard drives.

  The computers fizzled and made a hummy little noise, then no longer were. The entire stock market had become mired in wonderful, golden, delicious honey, so much so that no business would be conducted for at least a month and a day, enough time for Pooh’s friends to regain their senses. For Rabbit to become Rabbit. For Tigger to become…well, Tigger.

  “Oh, bear,” said Christopher Robin as they left the New York Stock Exchange hand in hand, past screaming technicians, weeping stockbrokers, and numbed captains of industry. “How I do love you!”

  “So do I,” said Pooh.

  America, the Beautiful…and Odd…and Hysterical…and…

  Well, this is embarrassing. I’d gone into a bank and simply because I wore a ski mask, packed heat, and gave the teller a note demanding she hand me over all the money, everyone now thinks I’m a bank robber.

  I can explain. I’m a money tester. I take money from various banks and spend it in shops and restaurants to see if their $5, $10, and $20 bills work. So far, they all have. No, it’s not a job you’ll see advertised on Careerbuilder.com. I created the industry.

  The fact is, I never would have been nabbed had I not left behind a copy of my Nobel Prize–winning acceptance speech, the one I got for furthering the Jokes and Anecdotes Arts and Sciences. The one with the words: “This is the property of Andy Simmons (5’9”, 155 pounds, brown hair, brown eyes, flecks of spinach in teeth), humor editor of Reader’s Digest, 750 3rd Avenue, New York City, NY 10017, 4th floor.”

  The end result is that I have now joined the ranks of the dumb criminal, one of America’s most beloved char acters. As a humor editor, I’ve made a good living off these ne’er-do-wells. Whenever I needed to fill a page, I’d find a passel of them and, presto! Job completed.

  When I wasn’t trading in dumb criminals, I produced exposés on other dolts, such as those people who think a lame excuse won’t be seen for what it really is: a lame excuse. Work gaffes are also always a favorite; after all, nothing makes us happier than the knowledge that someone is less competent than ourselves. Of course we don’t just go after foolish mistakes. Oddball has a lot of currency in our pages. That’s why I’ve made sure to put pieces in this chapter about weird scientists, offbeat town names, and most bizarre of all—the American male (that’s right, I’m ratting out my own kind!).

  Yes, America is the land of the odd peccadillo, and I like a good peccadillo, because it’s something that this country is stocked up on. And in a time of depleted natural resources, I’m glad we have something of value to mine. Because if I’m anything, I’m a patriot! Dumb criminals, lame excuses—they’re like jazz, a homegrown art form. Sure, other countries have proudly trotted out their dumbest and dimmest in order to lay claim to the crown, and many of them are represented here. A special hats-off in particular to the Brits, who always give it a jolly good show. Like the time Londoner Joanna Kirchmeier arrived home only to find her husband, Helmut, in front of a mirror “just staring at himself, his pupils tiny.” Helmut, a newly trained hypnotist, had accidentally hypnotized himself while rehearsing a new act and had been standing like that for five hours.

  Yes, good try, Britain, but I think even you will agree that when it comes to oddballs, it’s U-S-A! U-S-A! U-S-A!!

  My American Journey (Part 1)

  I was holed up in Boring, Oregon, thinking about trying someplace different. I had no good reason, so I traveled to Why, Arizona, to figure things out.

  I kicked around a few days until I found the answer. It was in Why Not, Mississippi. I quickly drove off to Jot ’Em Down, Texas, to make sure I wouldn’t forget it. I needed a town that had some life to it. So I jumped in the car, set the GPS, and didn’t stop until I reached Spunky Puddle, Ohio.

  It was spunky all right. I was so happy, I danced the night away to Twistville, West Virginia, and Disco, Tennessee. I boogied until my shoes wore down. Soon, I walked gingerly over to Loafers Glory, North Carolina, to buy a new pair. I was looking pretty sharp, sharp enough to stop in Handsome Eddy, New York. Eddy wasn’t around, but I knew where to find him—in Loveladies, New Jersey, where all the women, it seemed, were looking for Husband, Pennsylvania.

  It was a tough town. One gal told me my romancing needed some work, that I should practice in Sweet Lips, Tennessee. I was heartbroken. I skipped Intercourse, Pennsylvania, altogether and headed straight to Lonelyville, New York. I needed a stiff drink and knew where to get one—Rum Center, Louisiana. I wanted more, so I hit The Bottle, Alabama. After draining the last drop, I found myself in Condemned Bar, California. If I continued like this I was headed straight to…Hell, Michigan.

  After a few hours in Satan’s Kingdom, Vermont—and an hour running for my life in Goblintown, Virginia—I felt a little more like myself. So I had a pick-me-up in Egg Nog, Utah, which got me back to Merry Hell, Mississippi. All right, maybe it was more than one drink, because I woke up in Cranky Corner, Louisiana. If only I’d taken that detour to Cut Off, Louisiana!

  I was starving. I grabbed breakfast in Oatmeal, Texas, lunch in Sandwich, Massachusetts, and dessert in Pie Town, New Mexico. If I knew what was good for me I’d have stopped after Greasy, Oklahoma, because I was feeling pretty sick by the time I left Lick Skillet, Tennessee.

  I was mad at myself for acting like an idiot. I knew I wouldn’t be welcomed at my next destination, Brilliant, Ohio. No, that was for some Edison, New Jersey, type. When I got lost on my way to Dumbell, Wyoming, it dawned on me—I had to cease my wandering ways. I parked in Do Stop, Kentucky, took out the map, and found where I would soon call home. I didn’t need Wealthy, Texas, nor Fame, West Virginia. I’d find everything I could possibly need in a place called…Happyland, Oklahoma.

  Lessons I Learned from Dumb Criminals—All Too True Edition

  Do you enjoy being hounded by law enforcement and mingling with lowlifes? Does jail sound fun? If you answered, “Why, yes!” to both of those questions, then a life of crime might just be the right career for you! So, here are a few tips—along with some cautionary-but-true tales—to get you started!

  Pick the Right Equipment!

  Bringing a weapon to a crime causes more grief than it’s worth. But if you do decide to arm yourself, it ought to be with something that will actually scare someone. In 2008, this year, nineteen-year-old Justin MacGilfrey allegedly entered a Daytona Beach, Florida, store, pointed his index finger at the clerk, cocked his thumb, and demanded all the money in the register.

  The clerk assumed it was a joke. But MacGilfrey, who has pleaded not guilty to robbery, was serious. After determining the finger wasn’t loaded, the clerk emerged from behind the register. That’s when the finger-slinger holstered his digit and ran from the store. He was later arrested and, presumably, fingerprinted. (The charges were eventually dropped.)

  The Police Don’t Care for Criminal Types

  So don’t initiate a relationship like Phillip Williams did. He was an unhappy consumer, so he stopped two Tampa, Florida, police officers, handed over his crack pipe, and asked if they wouldn’t mind testing the crack cocaine that he’d bought earlier, just to make sure it was the real deal. Good news! It was. Bad news! They arrested him.

  A seventeen-year-old suspected arsonist approached a car in Lambertville, Michigan, intending to siphon gas from it. What he forgot to do was ask permission from the detective sitting in the front seat.

  Take the Time to Come Up with the Perfect Alias

  The best criminals all have colorful aliases. Names like Jimmy Nostrils and Joe Bananas real
ly liven up a criminal’s résumé. Look what happens if you don’t have one prepared.

  When Sheboygan, Wisconsin, police pulled over a car for not having proper registration, a passenger did what many criminals do—he supplied the cops with an alias. Bad move. Turns out that particular alias was wanted for vehicular homicide.

  Steve Lent was pulled over in Peekskill, New York, for a traffic violation. Since there was already an outstanding warrant for his arrest, he passed himself off as his brother, Christopher. What he’d forgotten was that there was an arrest warrant out for Christopher, too.

  Do Your Homework

  Remember! Whether your crime calls for aliases or an elaborate fraud, do a little background research so you don’t end up like Alexander D. Smith, who walked into an Augusta, Georgia, bank and tried to open an account with a one million dollar bill. Great—except there is no such thing as a one million dollar bill. (Smith was given a psychiatric evaluation.)

  Some surveillance would have saved a lot of grief for the two machete-wielding men who barged into a Sydney, Australia, bar demanding money. They didn’t know the club was hosting a bikers’ meeting. One robber ended up in the hospital, and the other hog-tied with electrical wire.

  Make the Cops Work for a Living

  In general, broadcasting one’s whereabouts is a bad idea. Convicted of receiving stolen property, James Wombles, age thirty-seven, had to wear an ankle bracelet as part of his parole. The bracelet came complete with a GPS monitoring system that let cops track his every move. Over the course of a few weeks, the Riverside, Ohio, man allegedly broke into six homes. You know where this is going—just as the cops knew where Wombles was going. Following the signals from his bracelet, they tracked him to his car, where they found him sitting on the stolen booty.

  There Are These People Called Lawyers

  They help people who have been arrested. If you are ever arrested, get a lawyer and let him or her do all the talking for you. Unlike Ellis Cleveland, who was arrested in Honolulu and informed by a detective that he was suspected of robbing four banks.

  “Four?” responded an irate Cleveland, according to the detective’s affidavit. “I didn’t do four; I only robbed three banks.”

  Lie Low

  Publicity is great for starlets. But criminals really should shun the spotlight.

  Robert Echeverria, age thirty-two, scammed a Rialto, California, Del Taco by calling up and pretending he was a local CEO whose order had been botched. Echeverria was so pleased with the $15 in free eats, he and two friends shot a short movie called “How to Scam Del Taco” and posted it on YouTube. It proved popular, especially among cops, who watched it and then arrested the would-be executive.

  Remember! Don’t Focus Attention On Yourself

  Consumers in northern Alabama became suspicious when they received recorded messages urging them to go to a website where they could update their bank account records. How did victims know it was just a “phishing” expedition? Their caller IDs read, “This is a scam.”

  Have a Plan

  No matter what venture you undertake, have an exit strategy. Receiving a report of a man banging on a door at three thirty in the morning, police responded to a mini-mart in Ossining, New York. When officers arrived, they chased Blake Leak, age twenty-three, through the streets and down an embankment. It looked bleak for Leak until both cops took a tumble. Seizing the opportunity, he sought refuge on the grounds of a large building.

  Unfortunately, it turned out to be a well-known local landmark, the Sing Sing maximum-security prison, where he was nabbed by a guard.

  Remember! Once You Make a Plan, Don’t Deviate From It

  Scottish shoplifter Aron Morrison was picked up after pinching a bottle of vodka from a liquor store. It didn’t take Sherlock Holmes to find Morrison, especially since he’d left his name and phone number with the clerk after asking her out on a date.

  Beware of Witnesses

  Good criminals arrange it so no one is aware that a crime has taken place. Last year, a German psychologist allegedly took advantage of three of his patients. He had sex with one, named Kathrin; convinced another, Finja, to buy him some shoes and shirts; and conned the third, Leonie, into cleaning his house and paying for his vacations. This all came to light when a fourth patient, Monika, became suspicious and called the police. Why would she do that when the three victims hadn’t? Because the four are one person: Kathrin, Finja, and Leonie are Monika’s multiple personalities. When Monika confronted the psychologist, he refused to discuss the matter, saying it would violate therapist-client confidentiality, something he owed all his clients, including alter egos.

  Remember! Don’t Leave Incriminating Evidence at the Crime Scene

  A convenience-store robber in Des Moines, Iowa, got away with $115 but left his coat. Inside: his W-2 tax form.

  A Target store clerk in Augusta, Georgia, agreed to take back a printer from a dissatisfied customer, then noticed some property the customer had left in the machine: counterfeit bills.

  After getting into an argument with a woman at a bus stop, Justin John Boudin of St. Paul, Minnesota, punched her in the face. He then attacked a Good Samaritan with a folder, which fell to the ground when Boudin fled. But cops tracked him down, thanks to what was inside that folder: his anger-management homework.

  Liar, Liar

  “Of course I complete the Saturday New York Times crossword puzzle…in pen!”

  “I never check out my exes on Facebook.”

  “No, I don’t mind sitting outside the ladies’ changing room in Macy’s while you try on the entire spring collection.”

  Admit it. You lie. And if you say you don’t, you’re a liar. We all lie, as often as two or three times every ten minutes, says one study (if it can be trusted). Sounds pretty reprehensible, right? But consider the alternative.

  “You can’t stop lies entirely,” University of Massachusetts psychologist Robert Feldman told US News & World Report. “Society would grind to a halt.” That’s because most of us fib to spare feelings—ours and others’. Too much truth hurts. Case in point: When Cosmopolitan asked readers for dates-from-hell stories, a guy named Don revealed the pain he felt when his blind date announced, “Your brother is so hot…you guys look nothing alike.”

  But while most of us fib to avoid such hard-heartedness, others lie…like rugs. And not even good rugs, more like the cheap ones you get in the remainder bins at Pier One stores. Take the Brazilian soccer player who claimed he’d been kidnapped just so he could avoid a fine for being late to practice. He was arrested for falsely reporting a crime.

  What was this dolt thinking?

  He wasn’t, says Cornell University professor Jeff Hancock. Consider this mathematical equation: Desperation + lack of time = idiotic lie. People like him, says Hancock, “should never again put themselves in the position of having to lie on the spot,” for the simple reason that they stink at it. Thank God, otherwise I might be out of a job.

  The worst liars are a font of humor. I don’t know about you, but I listen to their stream of ridiculousness and wonder how far they’re willing to go. And you’ve got to hand it to them, they don’t disappoint. Why leave well enough alone when you can build castles in the sky? Just like these fibbers…

  What the Fashionable Criminal Is Wearing

  When Eugene Todie pulled up to the New York–Canada border, guards noticed that he was sporting the latest in criminal haute couture, an ankle monitor. Intrigued, they asked Todie, “What’s the occasion?”

  The lie: Todie explained that a friend urged him to wear it as a show of solidarity with Lindsay Lohan, who was following a court order and wearing one herself.

  Were there any suckers? After a background check showed that Todie was on probation for criminal contempt and not allowed to leave the country, he was arrested.

  NSF(W)

  A few years ago, several staffers at the National Science Foundation (NSF) in Washington, DC, were investigated for watching porn on their co
mputers at work. The biggest perpetrator: an executive who’d spent 331 days chatting online with naked women, reported the Washington Times. But government money—up to $58,000—was not wasted, insisted the man.

  The lie: By clicking on the various porn sites, our executive provided these women with a living. “He explained that these young women were from poor countries and needed to make money to help their parents, and this site helped them do it,” an investigator reported.

  Were there any suckers? His altruism notwithstanding, the official has since “retired.” In light of his actions, the foundation has tightened controls to filter out inappropriate Internet addresses.

  Deceit 101

  While running for a seat on the Birmingham, Alabama, Board of Education, twenty-three-year-old Dr. Antwon B. Womack said he’d graduated from West End High School and received a bachelor’s degree in elementary education from Alabama A&M. Impressive, except that Womack was twenty-one, didn’t have a doctorate, didn’t attend college, and never graduated from high school. Other than that, he told the Birmingham News, he was honest.