humor: nov 12 -- Strange Analogies

[Nick Brown <nbrown@polymail.cpunix.calpoly.edu>]

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How do I set my laser
printer on stun?

			If I ate pasta and antipasto,
			would I still be hungry?

Did Noah keep his
bees in archives?

			How do you throw away a garbage can?

What if the Hokey Pokey
IS what it's all about?


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Tom Ellsworth credits ......
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The line separating painfully bad analogies from weirdly good ones
is as thin as a soup made from the shadow of a chicken that was
starved to death by Abraham Lincoln.   Here are some fine examples:

The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not
eating for a while.

He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either,
but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a
land mine or something.

Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can
tell butter from I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.

She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes
just before it throws up.

It came down the stairs looking very much like something no one had
ever seen before.

The knife was as sharp as the tone used by Rep. Sheila Jackson Lee
(D-Tex.) in her first several points of parliamentary procedure
made to Rep. Henry Hyde (R-Ill.) in the House Judiciary Committee
hearings on the impeachment of President William Jefferson Clinton.

The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating
electric fan set on medium.

Her lips were red and full, like tubes of blood drawn by an
inattentive phlebotomist.

He felt like he was being hunted down like a dog, in a place that
hunts dogs, I suppose.

The lamp just sat there, like an inanimate object.

You know how in "Rocky" he prepares for the fight by punching sides
of raw beef? Well, yesterday it was as cold as that meat locker he
was in.

He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells,
as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in
any PH cleanser.

She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-
temperature beef.

Her pants fit her like a glove, well, maybe more like a mitten,
actually.

She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.

It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it
to the wall.

Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation
thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.

A branch fell from the tree like a trunk falling off an elephant.

The painting was very Escher-like, as if Escher had painted an
exact copy of an Escher painting.

Fishing is like waiting for something that does not happen very
often.

They were as good friends as the people on "Friends."

He was as bald as one of the Three Stooges, either Curly or Larry,
you know, the one who goes woo woo woo.

The sardines were packed as tight as the coach section of a 747.

Her eyes were shining like two marbles that someone dropped in
mucus and then held up to catch the light.

The sunset displayed rich, spectacular hues like a .jpeg file at 20
percent cyan, 10 percent magenta, 60 percent yellow and 10 percent
black.

             _  _____________________________________  _
            / )|        Thomas S. Ellsworth          |( \
           / / |        tellswor@slonet.org          | \ \
         _( (_ |   http://www.slonet.org/~tellswor   | _) )_
        (((\ \>|_/ )_____________________________( \_|</ /)))
        (\\\\ \_/ /                               \ \_/ ////)
         \       /                                 \       /
          \    _/   A good pun is its own reword.   \_    /
          /   /                                       \   \
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              humor                            1.94.3+ 9908
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