In my career I’ve had plenty of job interviews, probably fifty. And I have to admit that my get-an-offer percentage is maybe 95%; not bad. On the flip side, I have interviewed over a hundred candidates, hiring a number of good people with few exceptions and only one a probable serial killer (he apparently knew the eighteen ‘Do Nots’).

I have asked it all, heard it all, answered it all, and seen it all. It is from this wealth of experience that I have culled eighteen must ‘Do Nots’ to share with you. You can thank me later. Here they are:

1. Do not be late.

2. Do not put your feet on the desk.

3. Do not eat garlic 24 hours prior.

4. Do not have a flapping dried nostril booger or a long protruding nose hair.

5. Do not have a stringer of spittle in the corner of your mouth.

6. Do not shake hands if your palm is cold, clammy and limp.

7. Do not wear sneakers unless they are brand new.

8. Do not wear a lapel pin of any sort unless it is the American or Mexican flag.

9. Do not ask about hours, salary, vacation, pensions, insurance or anything else that might be considered … well … not job related.

10. Do not say “bottom line” or “at the end of the day” less than five times every five minutes.

11. Do not quote Scripture or Seinfeld.

12. Do not forget to “push back” at least once on some safe
topic (e.g., interviewer: “Tell me about your last job.” Interviewee response: “I need to push back. You seem stupider than tar!”).

13. Do not use words like “mammy”, “pappy”, “gedder done” or “irregardless” unless it’s for a job at the Monster Truck rally.

14. Do not reach for your pocket flask unless you are willing to share it with the interviewer (which I highly encourage you do to break the ice).

15. Do not divulge what sex positions you like unless explicitly asked.

16. (Related to rule 15) Do not use the “C” word under any circumstances, ever! “F”, “B” and “S” words are okay but only if encouraged by the interviewer.

17. Do not fall asleep.

18. Do not forget to leave when it’s over.

There you have it. Most of it common sense. But you’d be surprised just how many people forget. If you master these rules and don’t forget to weasel word at every opportunity, you too should find success at your next job interview.

Happy job hunting.

This article was written by humorist Robert Crane. For more the same and plenty of other surprises, visit his popular website: http://www.cranelegs.com

You did this to me!

Me! The king of the jungle.

The ultimate muscle bound stud. Adonis! God’s gift to women.

I’m going extinct!

I hope you women out there with your equal rights are happy. You better enjoy me while you can.

The Y-chromosome, the fingerprint of maleness, is weakening, being stripped of the genes defending it.

When it goes, men will no longer exist.

In the beginning, the Y chrome was healthy, like the female’s thing. But just like men are serial killers and tyrants who cause wars, and not women, the men’s Y thing is dysfunctional.

In fact, according to scientists, men today are technically just mutant women, that’s all, genetically modified women. Are you a guy who thinks you’re tough? You’re just a girlie man.

So if somebody is rude to you, say to them indignantly, and in an effeminate voice, “don’t you dare talk to me like that, I’m a genetically modified woman.”

Does that mean George Bush would look good in a red satin prom dress?

In the end, the world will be composed of Amazon lesbians

and a few going-extinct men held over perhaps as sex slave toys.

If that’s the case, I hope I’m one of the few.

When did this trouble start? Approximately 100 million years ago, a mutation of the Y-chromosome’s ancestor in early mammals split off to enable development of a separate male gender. The problem with mutating is, the Y thing can’t stop doing it.

Currently, the Y has lost thousands of its purpose-giving, protecting genes, like a middle aged guy loses his hair.

The Y only has 27 genes left.

When it stands alone, it becomes irrelevant. Then it goes. Poof!. No more men.

When will this extinction occur? Approximately 125,000 years.

Blame rats, mice. They did this to us.

Ironically, one tiny rodent that currently lives in the Caucasus Mountains called the “mole vole”

managed to avoid Y extinction by throwing out the Y and installing its own “offshoot” relay-type half-and-half gene.

This might give us hope. But to date, no other species has been able to do this.

Congratulations to the mole vole. You women. If you want something masculine and hairy in 125,000 years, you’re going to have to date a bisexual, bipolar, hermaphrodite mole in some Russian mountains.

Science already enables lesbian couples to experience parenthood by sperm implant. The possibility of someday injecting the nucleus from a female egg into another women’s egg, allowing two women to parent a child—without any involvement by a man—Y, sperm, anything—is almost a certainty.

One hitch. The child of such a couple will always be a girl. The girl will not be a clone, but will have two regular biological parents. Two mothers, instead of a mother and father.

Wonderful!

In the meantime, us tough guys are weakening down. Today, approximately seven percent of us men are infertile or not-very-fertile because of continuing Y mutations that were not present in our fathers.

How does that make me feel? I suddenly have a strange empathy for the passenger pigeon and the dodo bird. I also feel a peculiar urge to put on a dainty lace apron and bake cookies.

© Copyright 2004 by SammonSays.com

John Sammon is the author of two books and writes a weekly humor column you may access at www.SammonSays.com

I have recently become frustrated with something at doughnut establishments, and I’m not referring to the scones, although — seriously — just think about the writing possibilities if I were. Rather, it’s the tip cup that bothers me…

To begin, I do realize that doughnut (or donut, take your pick) shops aren’t the only places with these cups. But for the sake of this column, I need to be oblivious to all of the other ones in order to keep some sort of focus, so bear with me here…

Yogi: That’s right, I am.

Smokey: Me too

At any rate, my first question is what we are tipping when we contribute extra change, sometimes even dollar bills, into the doughnut tip cup. Is it the way the employees stretch to grab the lemon-filled that is so challenging, or is coffee pouring more of an art than I thought it was? The thing is, I always end up tipping because it’s become an obligation rather than a choice. Blood and jelly are the same color and I realize that…

Still, this tip cup could have its advantages. For example, doughnut establishments could use the money to fund research in the creation of new doughnuts. Personally, I’d like to know that my extra 15 cents per day was putting some college intern hard to work in order to find out if sprinkles really do taste better when they’re multi-colored, or to see if crme mixed with pickle juice is such a bad idea after all. And then, when this research is complete (and thorough), I want to see my name somewhere on the official document…

Doughnut Shop Owner: Wait a minute, wait a minute — you are getting way too carried away.

Greg: So are you. And it’s about time someone stood up for the doughnut consumers of America.

Owner: That’s ironic, considering most of them sit down.

Greg: True. But that’s besides the point. I will only stop writing when you tell me why the tip cup is there.

Owner: I will, but I need you to keep this is a secret, okay?

Greg: Sounds good to me.

Owner: You see, we need advice — like, really serious advice. And so we put that tip cup there hoping that we’d get it, and unfortunately people are missing the point.

Greg: Oh, I see. Well, I have some advice for you, sir.

Owner: Thank you, what is it?

Greg: Well, it’ll cost you 50 cents…

But I digress.

Greg Gagliardi is a teacher and writer. His stream-of-consciousness weekly humor column, “Progressive Revelations,” has been ongoing since 1998. (http://www.ProgressiveRevelations.com)

One of the most common human experiences that two or more (depending on how ambitious you are) people can share is love. But, it’s not always easy to tell if you are in like, lust or full blown, forever loving. With that in mind, I’ve created this list of signs that you may be crazy in love!

1. If you’ve ever stared deeply into the eyes of your significant other for more than 10 seconds without cracking up hysterically … you may be in love.

2. If every person in your life tells you that she/he’s no good and you’re mailman, pharmacist and local news station agrees, yet you think they are “just jealous” … you may be in love.

3. Guys: if you’ve taken the pictures of the other women in you’re life off the walls, like the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition posters, Playmate of the month calendar, Monster Truck Rally 2005 … you may be in love.

4. Ladies: men can produce excessive amounts of eye watering, nose burning noxious odor from almost any food or drink, and then aren’t above sharing it with others, especially at night. Knowing all this, and you STILL want to sleep in the same bed with him … you may be in love.

5. If your significant other asks you how they look in their new retro polyester lime green outfit and you say they look hot … you may be in love…. or you have a really strong self preservation instinct.

6. Guys: if you’ve ever given up washing and waxing that new car you just bought to watch “Sleepless in Seattle” with you’re girlfriend/wife for the 20th time … you may be in love.

7. If you always remember every anniversary and birthday of your partner, and you’re not female … you may be in love.

8. If you think the underwear and socks you get for your birthday and Christmas every year is a pleasant surprise … you may be in love.

9. If you thought the Sears Tool Set and rolling cabinet you got for your birthday was great idea, and you’re not male … you may be in love.

10. If you are taken to Burger King for a romantic dinner, and that doesn’t bother you … you may be in love.

11. If you notice your local florist starts arriving at work in a limo since you became a customer … you may be in love

12. If hearing “Honey, wheres my clean underwear?” brings tears of joy to your eyes … you may be in love

But the easiest way to tell if you are in love is this: If there is no one on this planet that you would rather spend everyday of your life with than the one you are with … then you ARE in love!

Jan Michaels is a self-described relationship expert (why is his girlfriend laughing?) that is truly in love. When not writing amusing articles, he doesn’t do much of anything really important, unless feeding the cat counts. You can see more of his musings or various and sundry humorous items at: Free Heaven Or, Articles Heaven

Peru recently had a huge record breaking Earthquake, a whopper at 7.8 on the Richter scale. Days later the volcano of Fire in Mexico erupted. Now we already know that President Bush is responsible for the Tsunami last year and both Hurricane Katrina and Hurricane Rita. This was reported from a very reliable source; Al Sharpton, Louis Faracon, and Jesse Jackson recently, so you know it is true. Although the media is covering up the fact that the Bush Administration has done nothing to stop Contental Drift or the rotation of the Earth’s Core you can be sure that they are to blame as per Al Sharpton.

It was discovered that in fact the Earth’s core is moving faster than the surface of the Planet and it turns one additional turn per 400-700 years. Yet since the Bush Administration failed to sign the Kyoto Treaty, which Al Sharpton told listeners that is causing Global Climate Change, which causes Earthquakes, Volcanoes and Sun Spots too, maybe although he said he does not know for sure. But he did say; “probably so, probably so!”

Louis Faracon tells his followers that the Bush Administration is causing these things due to “Devil Worshiping” and that is why the Earth’s Core is changing and why we must take back the White House and vote him into office. He promises to stop the evil in the world and stop the Earth’s Core and Sun Spots, which he says will stop these horrible Earthquakes, Volcanoes, Tsunamis, Typhoons and Continental Drift once and for all. Think on this.

“Lance Winslow” - Online Think Tank forum board. If you have innovative thoughts and unique perspectives, come think with Lance; www.WorldThinkTank.net/wttbbs/

I yearn for a simpler time. Life in this modern age can be frustrating and scary, what with the global warming and the bad cholesterol and the high-definition reruns of ‘The Nanny‘. I long for a more peaceful existence, free from the complications of the twenty-first century lifestyle. I’m ready to re-adopt a few of our long-forgotten traditions, to recapture the halcyon days of yore. Yesteryore, even. I’m not screwing around here.

First, I’d like to go back to using surnames to describe peoples’ professions. So, if I meet a Shoemaker, I’ll know he can help me patch the holes in my sneakers. If I run into a Baker, I can ask for a ‘doughnut hole’, without worrying how exactly he’ll interpret the request. And if a Parker happens to be around — well, maybe he can finally get my car into my garage spot. Plus, he might be turn out to be Spider-Man. That would be sweet.

While we’re at it, how about if we go back to riding horses to get around? Gas prices are high, pollution is terrible, and I for one am fed up with that creepy, big-eared ‘zoom zoom’ brat. Much better that we should saunter around the natural way, atop large domesticated hairy animals. We can ride twelve wide down the highway, trotting and cantering our way to the office. Sure, we’ll all need stables — and salt licks, and hay bales, and the level of poop in the streets would escalate, just a touch, unless you live in Paramus — but it’s a small price to pay to be rid of our mobile metal monsters. And just think of all the glue and Big Macs we’ll be able to make with the ‘leftovers’.

It doesn’t end there, though. I think we should settle all of our differences the old-fashioned way, too, with a nice pistol duel. If it was good enough for the founding fathers, then why not us? Put away the fancy Glocks and rifles — those things won’t help you much, anyway, once we convert back to horseback travel. Have you ever heard of a ‘gallop-by shooting’? Me, neither. We’ll nip an awful lot of violence in the bud, if the would-be perps were forced to use ancient flint-lock pieces to do their dirty deeds. Those things are more likely to blow off your fingers than to take out your enemy. I’d think twice before stepping off ten paces against the guy who dissed my baby’s mama, that’s for sure.

I suppose the Internet is out, too — if there’s anything that screams ‘modern technology’, it’s the internet. So we’ll have to get our porn somewhere else, obviously. But also our communications — email goes out the window, too. Maybe we can Pony Express parchments to each other, or learn to send ‘leetspeak’ instant messages via smoke signal. Of course, if the spammers get their grubby paws on that technology, they’ll fill the skies with soot, selling their snake oil and combination butter churns/penis enlargers. And you thought pop-up ads were bad; at least nobody ever got black lung from one of those.

Finally, let’s start talking like the old-timers — sorry, I mean, ‘olde-timers’. All the fancy new lingo and technical jargon around today — let’s throw it all away, and replace it with words like ‘forsooth’ and ”verily’. Sure, nobody knows what the hell those things mean any more, but is that really any different than technoweenie talk like ‘phishing’ or ‘emoticon’? If we’re going to be unintelligible, at least we can sound Shakespearean. That’s my attitude.

Would any of these measures make our lives easier? Perhaps. Maybe we should ask the Amish, before we go to all the trouble. They certainly seem happy, raising barns and riding in buggies and not smoking or drinking or dancing or… wow. If we’re really serious about going ‘retro’, I suppose we have to fall in line with all of that uber-observant religious mumbo-jumbo, too. I never thought about that. And there’s no way I’m getting up before noon on Sundays, or giving up my three-margarita breakfasts. So, never mind. Maybe the modern life isn’t quite so bad, after all. Verily.