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Earlier I surmised that automating the process of extracting my old jokes from the ancient braverman.org site would take less time than hand-copying them. Well, duh. It only took two hours to write the script, lint the very few entries that needed it, and push the lot up to The Daily Parker. So, for those of you who have missed all the jokes—there are just under 200 of them, all published from May 1998 to November 2004—start here, then skip to here, and then keep clicking the calendar control. I'll call...

Waiting at a restaurant bar To meet my wife for dinner And this woman walks in Can’t help staring at her I mean, this girl is hot Rounded and tight, wicked curves When she turns, I hold my breath My god, she has incredible curves She’s a little short, but whatever A body like that, who cares about height? She’d be tall enough in my bed On her back or on all fours It’s all good, all she’s got Hair pulled back in a ponytail Skin-tight T-shirt, cut low and high Bright orange short shorts, and tight Ah...

The Buddha did not drive his car at 7:45am He never faced the corporate hierarchy No student loans weighed on his shoulders He walked away from his marriage The Buddha had the freedom to choose, to explore He taught us to accept the inevitability of change He told us that letting go = serenity And this path lies between asceticism and opulence Well, I try to walk the Middle Way I try to accept that change happens But I slip a little in rush hour traffic A little more working in my cubicle A little more...

My job involves driving a van around neighborhoods looking for customers. You see, most people are too embarrassed to call for help, even when the problem gets so bad that they have trouble living in their house. So I cruise around areas, looking for certain signs that might indicate a problem, sometimes calling into the dispatcher in case someone has the courage to admit they need help. It's a decent job, somewhat humbling for me with all my degrees and experience. Still, it pays well and the work...

On 9/11/02, I defied the terrorists. Just little old me. I went to work [in public service]. Rode the subway. During the moment of silence at 8:46AM— The two ladies next to me crossed themselves. Boston police at every turn, I went into a court of law. Smiled sadly at everyone I could. And sang, "happy birthday" to my aunt. Today I heard planes taking off. Opened my mail. Chose what I wanted to watch on TV. Listened to music on the radio. I tried my best— To honor the memories of those who were taken...

Many years ago, there was a man in Bathsheba who asked his servant to go to market. His servant had served faithfully for many years; though his hair was white, he stood as tall as a young date tree in the autumn whose leaves are beginning to fall while the fruit of abundance draws to an end about it. The servant went to market, and among the throng he saw Death, dressed in black and as pale as the moon that grows thin. Death made a gesture, and the servant grew frightened; for, although there were many...

When I close my eyes And dream of times we shared I hear the angels weep Heaven knows you never cared Every sun that rises Brings another lonely day We used to soar on angels' wings Now I plod on feet of clay Stare into the flame Burning like my shame I can only blame You who played the game Stare into the flame Wish I'd known when times got tough You'd throw it all away So much for 'ever after' I can't even face today Whispered promises of love Down many years will echo A future life I do not want A...

I met her at a bar on a rainy summer night She was sitting in a crowd that she wouldn’t call her friends When I took the seat before her with a smile and my first name She smiled back, took a sip of wine, and said, "I like this game." I realized that in her eyes a storm was coming fast How was I to know I would sit helpless in its path? Just her name rolled off her lips as seconds slipped by Diana stole my night with seduction in her eye. Savage mistress of the moon Can I know who’s hunting whom? Keeper...