Waiting to Get There. Usually on the A/C/E in Chelsea, New York City.

So much working together goes on around here. Many times group efforts are most notable after midnight, but some are day time affairs. #1 Group Project:  On Friday night, we were coming back from the comedy show that Bente and Charlie had invited us to on the Upper West Side. Charlie plays poker with the headliner. The headliner was... not good. He was up there thinking he was sharing Deep Thoughts. And yeah, it didn't go well. The audience was its own spontaneous group project sharing various shades of WTF -- some more loudly than others.  But all this, while colorful, is completely irrelevant.  Here is my actual Group Project #1:  It happened on the subway home.  I sat down next to a woman who talks when she gets drunk. She was telling a quarter of the subway car that she just moved back from Florida after getting divorced from her third husband. She muttered something like "What am I doing wrong in my life?" ....and suddenly it was a therapy session with five therapist

I enjoyed writing in code and seeing if my 16yo nephew could translate: Secret cursive code Yeah, they don't teach cursive in school anymore. By the way, this is my finest cursive ever. The scribbles are mainly my nephew demonstrating how he might sign his name... because this was my first line of inquiry after the whole "we don't learn cursive in school anymore."  I told my nephew that his scribbles were, on the whole, not signatures. Probably won't work unless he's about to get conscripted by pirates. We discussed some of his attempts and agreed they were pretty solid, but more along the lines of writing his initials with a flourish -- like what you'd put on pages 1-9 of a ten page legal document on the line that says "initial here" and you can't then have your signature look exactly the same as your initials. So then there were a few more attempts that included more letters but. Yeah. He really sort of doesn't know how to write in curs

I have made up a lot of jokes in my day. More like riddles, really. Puns if you will. My very first joke I ever made up was this: What is the deadliest type of shrubbery? Answer: ...an Ambush. Yeah, that is a video of my niece in a little town in Pennsylvania where a guy dressed up like a bush gets paid in tips to scare passersby. This guy just sits there all day, in a planter dressed up in a ghilly suit  taking money from tourists. This guy earns his money. I saw him almost get punched like four times. Now, to be clear, I did not pay him to scare my niece, this is all her mom's work.  During our annual family vacation, I made up zero new jokes but my pop had a sting of... not good ones. They all started with "a rabbi, a priest, and an [insert someone else here] walk into a bar..." I wish I could remember some of them, but probably it's better for you if I don't.