Smart Answers to Dumb Questions

While watching TV, I heard an announcer ask a victim of a tornado what it was like. Really? What was it like?! “Well, there was wind going around and around and then suddenly my ding-dang house was gone. I think the roof was headed to Canada. I even saw a woman riding a bike turn into a witch on a broom. I’m pretty sure that was my mother-in-law.” The truthful answer would be, “I was so scared I wet my pants.” Just once I want to see someone answer a reporter like that and point to their damp crotch.
In the interests of doing my best to make fun of myself and others, I have made a list of dumb questions that I have been asked, heard asked of others, or made up from my fertile imagination. Some of them may be questions I have asked, but I won’t tell you which ones.
 

Q: Do you suffer from depression?
A: Well I don’t enjoy it, but it’s better than being an idiot who asks about it.
Q: How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
A: Just as many moose as a mini mouse could move if a mini mouse could move moose.
Q: Do these pants make me look fat?
A: Yes, the pants are an evil entity that has expanded to make your butt look bigger than it really is. Bad pants. Bad pants. Come here and I’ll spank them. (This one kind of got away from me. Sorry about that.)
Q: What are you thinking?
A: I was just pondering a way to make a stable cold fusion reactor out of paperclips and duct tape while contemplating the best way to create a wormhole to link us with countless other moss-based life forms in civilizations throughout the cosmos. I was also thinking about pudding.
Q: You don’t get out much, do you?
A: My mind is free to wander as far as it wants. My body can’t go anywhere until it get back. Please tell it to come home. The butt promises to fart less so it won’t be as tormented by noxious fumes.
Q: Are you ready for summer/winter/spring/fall?
A: No, and I would appreciate it if you would hold it off until I have had time prepare.
Q: Do you believe in love at first sight?
A: No, I’m love blind.
Q: How old do you think I am?
A: Woman: Twenty-four. (It is a safe guess. Anyone under 24 will be flattered that you think that look that mature. Anyone older will be flattered you think they look that young. My grandma said I was “a creative person whose canvas involved using fecal matter of a male bovine” when I said that to her.)
A: Male: Does it matter? She is still too young for you since you’re not George Cloony.
Q: Don’t you have anything better to do than write a blog about stupid questions?
A: Yes, but this is called creative writing that allows me to delude myself into thinking I am doing something worthwhile, when in reality I’m just procrastinating editing my new book.

I hope these help you as you face the mindless many who madden you. Just remember: Only you can be sarcastic when someone asks you a question.

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