Hammock Humor

To avoid the confusion of the great miscommunications of old, it is clearly important to clearly communicate what Hammock Humor is.

And isn’t.

Hammock Humor is not a punch in the face.

Hammock Humor is better than that.

Much better.

Hammock Humor is naturally a relaxed form of humor. It is easygoing. Breezy and carefree, Hammock Humor lacks cynicism as the assholes are elsewhere, the idiots are indisposed, the hecklers are at home (making negative comments on the Other Internet, most likely); and even if the rough crowds were around, Hammock Humor would pay them no mind.

Neither does Hammock Humor worry about the internal doubts; those homegrown dirty Debbie Downers heckling us from deep within; our own insider threats* that can be such killjoys in often auditing any out-of-the-box move we might maneuver to make, even our most inimitable motions of the utmost minimal measure.

No, Hammock Humor does not trifle with such de trop trifles, instead choosing to trifle with sweet trifles**.  If something unintelligent is said, Hammock Humor can just blame–or it credit–it on the hammock, for in Hammock Humor all sides of the ledger are in the black, making accounting wholly unnecessary in Hammock Humor, which could quite frankly lead to the decline in H&R Block’s profitability*** in The Beautiful Hammock Future.

But if one were to cook the books, or even just sear them a little, Hammock Humor will not be the one to report them—or themself, for those committing such brazen culinary acts could be Hammock Humor itself, if it’s funny enough and for a comical cause—to a federal agency, despite Hammock Humor clearly crossing state lines and stamping its passport at such a blessedly beautiful billowing rate that clearly certifies it as the only true Humor Without Borders. For the only oversight of Hammock Humor is sunny and the only law of the land Hammock Humor abides by is Hammock Law, which may not be completely written yet because the lead scribe responsible for overseeing the promising project may be currently, appropriately, and without reprimand or worry of losing their Hammock Law-writing-oversight responsibility, lying in a hammock somewhere where in the absence of any decaying negativity, blossoms a flourishing positivity of a happy-go-lucky, undemanding variety.

The oxygen is easy and the air is exceptional among the gardens of perennial positivity where hammocks hang.

Perennially of course.

No one is worried. The Hammock Law Bill of Rights will get written when it gets written, for all are in good humor.

Good Hammock Humor, one might say, as they recline in their hammock, for above all, Hammock Humor is laidback.

There must be a pun or dad joke in there somewhere.

But Hammock Humor strives not for dad jokes.

Hammock Humor may bump into dad jokes from time to time, in a happy accident (that’s how babies are born), but it is not the conscious goal of Hammock Humor, just the lazy result of not using protection, and very possibly being intoxicated, for Hammock Humor itself can be quite intoxicating (citation pending).

As such (Hammock Humor being very cognizant of its purpose in life and goals, which includes not dad jokes), Hammock Humor features no serial runs on dad jokes.

Not because no one who has ever laid on a hammock has gotten laid and gone on to father a child (or previously done so); that would be altogether untrue. But rather, the dearth of dad jokes in Hammock Humor is primarily because dad jokes are customarily dumb. And Hammock Humor is not dumb—at least not densely so.

For Hammock Humor is rich in customs that are not limited to stupidity, or even by it (citation pending). There are many other kinds of binging about, or feasting afoot. Certainly, Hammock Humor could be humming with alcohol or lazily lounging in a hammock, and those things may stunt the overall intellectual capacity necessary to immediately churn out wholesale hilarious hilarity out of jokes of such promisingly prominent provenance. In other words, there may certainly be elements of stupefaction abounding in Hammock Humor derived from stunningly stupefied stupors of strangely sweet asininity. But the puerility is not pure.

Certainly not perennially so.

Instead, there is just the right amount of childlike wonder in Hammock Humor. Not the overdose that would arrest development or cause someone to actually be a child incapable of hanging their own hammock****, but enough to keep that youthful spirit, that wonder, that Learn’d Astronomer from time to time, looking up in perfect (silent) wonder at the stars, from a hammock, a stargazing device older than the telescope. Yes, the hammock and its humor perfectly facilitate that wonderful intergalactic imagination, so much lacking in the dad joke category, whose brand contains hues of the following palette:

Did you hear about the claustrophobic alien?

He needed space.

And:

What do you call a tick on the moon?

A luna-tick.

And:

Why don’t aliens eat clowns?

They taste funny.

While we are not exactly laughing our asses off right now, we cannot say that we are anti-dad joke completely, like the dad who is reading the anti-gravity book, and can’t put it down.

Hahahaha.

For while we can put a dad joke down in the sense of letting it rest to instead pick up some Hammock Humor, we can also put a dad joke up on a pedestal (a small one).

After all, dad jokes do have their positives (small ones):

In a world seemingly so set on seriousness from sunup to sunset, dad jokes are at least some semblance of a countermeasure, a kind of elixir of relief and redress against the epidemic of extreme staidness and sterilizing stolidity so sadly furnishing many minds with mental marbles of starkness rather than accoutering our mental states with kindling-rich spear-heading systems that stimulate and strengthen spirited amazing imaginations which sit at the ready in the waiting room of every soul sometimes interminably on call until the wanted spark calls their number.

The dad joke could be that spark. A weak one. The dad joke might wake the walking dead, the thoughtless, bound and determined, downbeat, deadpan, funereal zombie from their seriously sedate state; but only for several seconds. Then it’s back to going through the motions of life, in a serious way, until one of the few actual serious things around–death*****–enters what should have been a seriously less-serious sentence all along: it’s not a death sentence after all (get it, ahahah–dad joke alert!).

This dynamic has largely resulted in anyone having a sense of humor at all to be described as having “a good sense of humor,” which has caused a bit of a quandary in how we should refer to those who actually do have a good sense of humor******. We are not arguing outright that hammocks should enter the more modern evolution of this phrase, but it wouldn’t hurt to try them on for size. Being people of action, when not performing the action of lying in a hammock, we’ll do that******* right now (#LiveInTheMoment):

“Wow! She has a good sense of Hammock Humor!”

“Wow! He has a hammock sense of humor!”

“Wow! They are so fucking smart, sexually desirable, and hilarious all at the same time because they read Hammock Reviews on the regular. If I had a child with them, can you imagine how good-looking and successful that child would be?!”

All of those seem like good options, because they are. We’ll see how it all plays out. In a tale as old as time: time will tell.

But the lack of Hammock Humor in our school’s educational curricula is not just negatively affecting language arts, where we are failing to use all of the adjectives at our disposal to accurately articulate senses of humor. The fact that Hammock Humor is no longer, or never has been, taught in schools is also very negatively affecting other subjects as well, like mathematics, where we fail to balance such life equations on the daily.

Why do we so often overweigh the side of seriousness, thus artificially inflating its import and value, like the great Miracle-Gro of old? It is not the fault of our middle-aged math teachers who instruct our newly-teenaged minds in 8th or 9th grade to develop serious measurable scientific ways and means, like the greatly boring ways and means committees of old. They just teach the hammock-less curriculum the higher-ups give them, the equations they’re dealt, so to speak, which are normally impossible to win with as if they were dealt by the great card shark dealers of old.

No, it is more of a societal issue, a human issue, a weightier question than our public school teachers are paid to handle, better suited to actual boring philosophy practiced by actual long-bearded philosophers not bothered by pre-pubescent adolescents and their pubescent slightly-older elders running around the classroom making fart jokes or engaging in bathroom humor when not blurting out coarse sexual references not yet dressed up in sophisticated literary metaphors or innuendo because they were not paying attention in English class where we learn the great sexual symbolism of old; and neither did these rambunctious youngsters lie long enough in a hammock to class up their classroom discourse to the dashing and delicately-yet-durably-daring elevated elegance of Hammock Humor so honestly abounding in The Beautiful Hammock Future.

Here, in this paragraph we do not offer advice on classroom management, try to make sense of the previous paragraph or the next item in this list, or wade in the waste-filled waters past their perhaps profound philosophical prime of proletariat-pigeon-holed-by-the-privileged-posing-as-hoi polloi describing and defining everything plebeian the perennially presently-privileged purported positions provide in perpetuity when the words are often bullshit or in this case: pigeon shit (because of previous pigeon-holing). No. Here, in the spirit of Muhammad ibn Musa al-Khwarizmi, we are just looking to balance the equation.

And dad jokes can help do that.

For the simpler equations solving life’s serious/not-serious dilemma.

Laughter is indeed the best medicine (citation: saying, the; cliché, the).

A dad joke is medicine.

Of the weak kind.

Not really like putting a Band-Aid on a bullet hole, for the dad joke actually does help.

It’s more like drinking beer to cope with the existence of Tom Brady, when something much harder is obviously needed.

A dad joke is like drinking chicory coffee to wake up in the morning. It will make you alert for a moment, when you say “what the fuck is this?!” But in the end you’ll need something real.

Like real coffee. Made from actual coffee beans instead of chicory.

You can’t counterbalance something so bulky and burdensome with fool’s gold. A serious problem like Tom Brady or the overabundance of global seriousness is a serious problem that requires something seriously stronger.

Like a slap in the face and smelling salts to wake someone (before science stick-in-the-muddily stepped in and said that was a bad idea********).

So what healthy thing has science replaced the old slap in the face and smelling salts with to healthily and helpfully and sustainably wake the dead?

Well it took a while, but it’s finally here.

Hammock Humor.

We are not saying that Hammock Humor is like highly-caffeinated black coffee with a crazy name that will wake you so quickly you’ll be on the verge of cardiac arrest, or more interestingly an erection.

No, Hammock Humor is not that.

It is more like tea.

Not black tea though, which is highly-caffeinated and tending towards empire building (citation: Grey, Earl).

No, Hammock Humor is more like green tea, matcha tea to be precise, which may technically contain lower levels of caffeine than your typical cup of coffee, but it is a more stable caffeine that features less highs and lows. Less spikes and crashes. It’s all about digestion and absorption with Matcha’s “cleaner caffeine.” Healthier, which begins with an H, like hammocks and humor. And Hammock Humor.

That’s why more and more people are turning to Hammock Humor (citation: you, a human, reading this) and matcha tea as a coffee alternative than the much-less-popular chicory nonsense, which does have a strong avian following (maybe that’s how feathered creatures cope with Tom Brady’s birth: who knows? It’s mostly speculation at this point, like whether or not illuminati-minded finches actually do sit around in a backroom nest consuming chicory and laughing at how they could cause more human disruption with another outbreak of the avian flu).

But rather than spend our time here picking on chicory (like a comestible-craving canary, hahaha!) and its coffee counterfeiting, because we do appreciate it giving it the good, old honest fraudulent (and plagiarism-riddled) college try, we will examine the inadequacies of dad jokes.

When we look into the anatomy of dad jokes, we can surely see their shortcomings.

And we are not talking about penis size, or the middle-age decrease in testosterone so duly discussed in hormone-hyping commercials. Because if testosterone were the key to healthy humor, those who take steroids may not be so ill-humored (citation: rage, Roid).

It’s that when you dissect a dad joke, it boasts a signature.

Not a John Hancock (hahaha).

A lack-of-surprise punchline.

Which is in direct contrast to an actual good joke; unlike the dad joke where you see the punchline coming from miles********* away, the good joke blindsides you with the punchline containing something different–and good. Something you did see coming. It hits you unexpectedly and you involuntarily laugh.

It is a new thought. One that had never occurred to you before.

You might even think, “How’d that comedian come up with that?”

A dad joke does not marvel you, does not surprise you with the punchline.

Nor should it: remember that the dad got such a title by having kids and because kids are often among the the dad joke audience and we want them to feel good about getting the joke–even if not right away, then at least quickly on the first explanation. Sure, sometimes dad jokes are told without kids around, but in a way that is because dad jokes are like a poor form of children’s literature or movies that adults often enjoy too. In fact, some might speculate the reason some men have kids in the first place is to be accepted by society. A single 38-year-old man with no kids who watches Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs and Bambi on repeat by himself is seen by society as a complete weirdo, but the same man at 45 with the same film-watching habits and a couple kids is touted as a great dad. A single 38-year-old man with no kids who tells dad joke after dad joke to his friends at the bar is laughed and ridiculed by his friends who just bring him along to feel good about themselves still being cooler than at someone this world as they enter middle-age, but the same man at 45 telling the same dumb dad jokes is looked up to by the same group of friends and lauded for being an excellent example for the youth, a great dentist (the friends didn’t even know or care about his profession when he was 38; they may have guessed he was a travelling dental floss salesman or something of that sort), a pillar of the community, and a great dad.

But while the dad joke’s lack-of-surprise punchline may be its signature go-to move, like Jordan’s turnaround fadeaway, the dad joke has another trick up its sleeve that even a GOAT like Jordan couldn’t have because basketball jerseys don’t have sleeves (HAHAHA!).

And because Jordan was great. And dad jokes are not (citation: joke in previous paragraph).

So the other trick up the dad joke’s other sleeve is the easy-to-solve riddle. Something that kids young enough to maybe believe in Santa Claus and still be impressed by their parents can crack.

Now young kids can have some pretty awesome imaginations. So they may cycle through a list of possible answers that are actually more interesting than the predetermined riddley dad joke punchline before finally landing on—or conceding—the stock riddle answer in what may be their first of many lobotomizing moments that provide strong fertilizer for great Harry Chapin songs that warn of boring biology and botany classes on the young mind’s horizon and providing further proof to the cliché that the journey is superior to the destination.

A riddle in a dad joke with its standard, stupid, stock answer does not play to the height of those unique individual child imaginations that provide the fuel for the term “childlike imagination,” but rather to the collective lowest common denominator (in foreshadowing to the boring math classes discussed above) in effort to reach the largest, widest audience. #MassConsumption

One might also call it a sell out (and use that as their hashtag to nowhere), and Green Day might be inclined to write a hit song about it that people oddly popularly play at graduations every time a new, hipper, more topically-minded millennium is rolling around and we’re forced to face the realities of what to do and how to “make the best” of “another turning point, a fork stuck in the road” inherent in the turning of any millennium where “time grabs you by the wrist” and “directs you where to go.”

But it’s less likely the dad joke will be so inspiring, because the dad joke is generic.

Which can be great if it saves you hundreds of dollars a month on your life-saving inhaler.

But that’s not funny**********.

And neither are dad jokes. Because a dad joke is almost never a new thought. It lacks any well-brewed wonder, any unique imagination. It is just someone repeating what they heard “the Learn’d Astronomer” say in the lecture; not the person that left the lecture hall to get a breath of fresh air and write an amazing poem about the experience.

The problem with the lecture (as it relates to dad jokes and Hammock Humor contextualization, for we could certainly find other ailments of its education value, delivery, technique, etc.) is not whether or not it is new to you, whether or not you already knew how to range the proofs and figures in columns or how to add, divide, and measure the charts and diagrams. The primary problem is that it doesn’t feel fresh. Even though you may have not attended the lecture, you may be familiar with the content. You may not be. It doesn’t matter. It doesn’t feel alive. It doesn’t cause wonderment. It does not incite excitement.

When you see an old stand-up routine or an old movie, it could feel fresh. Or dull, like the Learn’d Astronomer. When you watch a new stand-up routine or recent movie, it could feel fresh. Or dull, like the Learn’d Astronomer.

When you could look at flowers, they could be sterile and lifeless, barren because they are painted by kindergarteners whose lack of technique-informed talent in their still-developing-fine-motor-coordination-skills minds normally necessitating reaching more-matured status for finalizing the finer of the fine arts that often finds the rare rich audience of recherché refinement dressed in faint-gilded glimmering glitterati stealthy staleness, complementary colors of the exclusive, elitist-inclined arrogance that can afford admission to quarantined creativity in a comatosing climate cannot be compensated by creativity under the watchful eye of an authoritarian, soul-sucking, imagination-arresting teacher who probably believes sex should only be transacted in the missionary position at selectively-scheduled intervals for procreation purposes only, exclusively in a comatosingly-controlled climate where the standard deviation is contracted to room temperature confinement as to not get too hot and bothered and thus have duty descend disastrously deep into recreation and subsequent recognition of the cerebral reward system.

Or you could see old flowers that, despite being planted a century and a half ago, still blossom and smell fresh, still blooming in the ever-illuminating efflorescence of Leaves of Grass.

You could read an old poem, like “When I Heard the Learn’d Astronomer” and it could feel fresh, even if you’ve read it many times before, because you like it.

And you could see a standup routine, you’ve seen it many times before and it could feel fresh.

The dad joke lacks that forever-freshness (and often first-time freshness), the kind of sweetness that honey has that stands the test of time. Instead, the dad joke is like some packaged chocolate, preserved with a long list of lavishly labeled chemicals. It may not have worms in it or mold on it, but that does not mean it should be readily or eagerly consumed.

Because if you think that is Sweet Livin’, then surely you’ve stopped reading long ago as you’re too busy eating old synthetically-sweetened lies labeled as chocolate and laughing at stale punchlines that seem new to you while such alleged novelties already feel familiar to our elevated and enlightened readership, like they already had appeared in our unconscious minds, a previous lifetime, or the back of our favorite sugar-laden second-grade cereal box. Whatever the root cause might be, we are not left thinking, “How did they come up with that?”

But rather “Why did they come up with that?” if we’re feeling cynical or critical.

Or “hardee har har” if we’re feeling more kind.

We are feeling more kind.

Hammock Humor always favors the kind delivery and response.

For we do not heckle in Hammock Humor.

We hurrah.

We applaud the humoristic endeavors regardless of the success ratio rather.

We are not the comedy police issuing any would-be warranted warrants for errant stabs at jokes and failed attempted whacks at wisecracks.

We are the helpful mall cop. Not even authorized to stop you from shoplifting, we would never think to do so even if we had such authority given our salary’s promiscuous proximity to minimum wage. Quicker to give a helping hand than a handcuff (which we don’t carry), even if we can see the various Victoria Secret panties falling out of your packets, we simply point you in the right direction: there’s your family, your lovely wife waiting for her thoughtful anniversary gift, right beside your talented son wiping snot from his nose in desperate anticipation of the next hilarious dad joke he can retell at school and get ridiculed for by his much-cooler friends who only hang out with him for his badass basement they can chill in whenever they want and do whatever they want because he has clueless parents, who wouldn’t recognize the smell of weed smoke if it rose right from their basement and hit them right smack in their noses.

No, we won’t haunt you with terrible truths, like the pathetic parent-teacher conference where you’re told about your son’s pathetic grades.

No, we only haunt you with happiness; we only haunt you with hammocks, which are one in the same.

For your son’s friends don’t only love him for his freewheelin’ basement, which would be a sign of using him; they all love him for his hammock in the backyard, which is a sign of respect.

And hope.

And immortality.

Years later, after war and famine have struck your hometown, and a tired solider stumbles through your backyard, he or she will not give one damn about your son’s D in Biology, which seems like it should have been a passing grade because it’s not an F but was labeled as insufficient. No, that soldier which just care that there is a hammock to lie in—and be thankful.

Any person you encounter on a daily basis could be that tired solider, living in a humoristic famine surrounded by a world-worn by seriousness.

It is a serious plague indeed.

So we will not laugh at you for the lack of laughter your dad jokes elicits. We will not criticize how imperfectly you hung your hammock. For the importance is the sweet motion of how your hammock sways in the breeze, not how well-hung it is.

And just as Leaves of Grass multiply and grow over the decades, blossoming like a beautiful beard, highlighting the interconnectedness of humans, so too will hammocks harness humanity’s kinship, as the air will be filled more and more with the sweet scent of Hammock Humor as we eagerly anticipate the arrival of The Beautiful Hammock Future, which will be for all to enjoy.

It is simply an inarguable fact, for the tree on which your hammock is hung has roots in the ground, which are connected to (even if thousands of miles away) the roots of another tree, which is holding the hammock of another human (“not unlike we are connected by the family tree going back to the first human,” – some dad somewhere, HAHAHA).

“Ahh, but what about those across the ocean in a hammock? For they do not seem so connected with quite literally and figuratively an ocean between us,” a Doubting Thomas will undoubtedly say (and who can really blame them for performing the duties and responsibilities outlined in their job description?).

Yes, they are connected too: any people in hammocks are always connected, even if we have to go deeper and be more profound by getting seismologists and geologists involved.

Yes, when John Donne wrote, “No man is an island,” he was essentially talking about the state of humankind when we are lying in hammocks. In The Beautiful Hammock Future, Donne’s works may be re-(and better)-titled A (Mostly Kinda Boring) Prelude to The Beautiful Hammock Future.

Yes, we need not be in the same hammock to be lying in hammocks together. #Sanitation #Safety #Privacy #PersonalSpace #StrangerDanger #ThereAreSomeCreeposOutThereWhoIDefinitelyDon’tWantInOrNearMyHammockSoIAmReallyAppreciativeOfApproachingTheInterconnectednessOfAllSymbolicallyLikeThis:HammockAreF*ckingGreat:ThankYouHammocks!

And because the Hammock Humor audience is knowledgeable enough to know we are all connected, and they are kind, and they are quite possibly drunk, they laugh at the Hammock Humor, even when it may be lacking, not entirely unlike when a woman may fake an orgasm out of love (but completely unlike when a woman may make an orgasm out of pity and also completely unlike when a woman may fake an orgasm to Reader’s Digest*********** the experience).

While dad jokes may have been conceived (the dad becoming a dad in the first place then later birthing dad jokes) with the benefit of the fake orgasms, dad jokes cannot benefit from having such an intoxicated audience as such a dynamic would require DHS’s (or DHHS’s for those annoying sticklers who like to pronounce the second H) involvement: because who the fuck is watching the kids? Drunk idiots?

But that is not the only difference between the dad joke and Hammock Humor.

They are structurally different.

The most obvious way dad jokes are structurally different from Hammock Humor is that dad jokes are structurally inferior to Hammock Humor. Dad jokes lack the structural integrity, the solid foundation, the strong base from which you can hang your hammock on, because the serial dad joke-lover would love nothing more than to watch you, or his old pal Billy Boy (if good ‘ole Jackie Boy weren’t around), climb into the hammock and have it fall to the ground—as he recorded it on his old home camera and tried to submit the tape to newer versions of America’s Funniest Home Videos, only to learn they now accept exclusively electronic submissions, so he tried to have his kids convert the tape to a digital file suitable for submission, but his offspring were too dumb to do so for reasons we will soon see.

The motivation for the above dad-joke loving filmmaker to go to such trouble in the above paragraph to create art is because he was trying to turn back the clock to his younger dad youth, rekindle those Glory Days with the kind of hilarity preserved and archived in the annals of the serial dad joke-lovers collection of America’s Funniest Home Videos tapes he illegally recorded in his rebellious youthful years when the advent of the VCR was cutting edge technology and cutting edge humor was catching your kid on home video trekking their tricycle right into a tree, probably the same tree daddy captured another great moment of filmmaking comedy genius when his other kid fell out of the (improperly hung) tire swing, also probably the same family tree that connects this type of faulty-fatherly folly humor to dad jokes.

The silver lining of this life cycle that should be of interest to some (very drunk) biologists and sociologists and other ists (seeking tenure at diploma mills, the engine of our society’s modern Industrial Revolution) is that these kids could accumulate enough head injuries as unpaid performers doing these daring stunts during their youth that their intellectual capacity never grows beyond the point of believing dad jokes are the height of humor. In other words, whether consciously or unconsciously, this dad joke lover embarks upon a kind of parenting that keeps his kids dumb enough to laugh at his jokes (then they grow up, have kids, and repeat this process with newer technology and bigger audiences on popular TikTok channel). This is probably something Freud should have spent more time looking into instead of weird sex stuff.

But it is not all dad joke lovers that also adore this density of dumbness and frolic so feverishly in the folly humor; it’s just that they happen to be similar in the genetic makeup, and are naturally related. But it’s more that their questionable bases and familial ties that make dad jokes genetically different than Hammock Humor. It is not all about the dad joke inferiority complex, some of the differences are just equally different, like the one we are about to explain.

The dad joke is more of your traditional stand-up joke; whereas Hammock Humor is humor.

Let us provide our hammockly meanings for these words to ensure proper understanding and clear communication, for the more traditional dictionaries may (or do) contain some different definitions that march to the beat of the a different drummer than the one we lie to in our hammocks.

Jokes have a clear structure. A setup and punch. If a standup routine were an audio track, it would have clear spikes where the punchlines are. If the routine is good, like good, non-chicory-based real coffee, the laugh track follows a similar pattern.

Though they use a different stencil, sitcoms follow a similar arrangement, albeit with more staggered setups than standup, mostly embedded in the environment that’s been created in the world of the show, it remains a series setup and punchlines. The stencil is from the same company, but the artistic outline is a multiplayer.

This is indeed a fine art, when a fine artist does it well. When Bob Saget does standup, it can be funny, with unexpected punchlines penciled into to the standard templates. When Bob Saget presents a video with the setup of person reaching for an object on a high shelf, we can already anticipate the non-surprisingly punchline of the object then following from that high shelf, probably on the person themself, in an unartistic and uninteresting completing of the setup/punch template.

Humor, by the meaning we use it here, is less template-based with less of a predetermined structure. It is more freehand. As such, if it were visualized in an audio track, the stencil would look much different as the artistic aim is altogether different: rather than attempting to elicit deep belly laughs of major joke producers, humor casually scouts out the chuckles and the grins, resulting in smaller spikes if this were an audio track–or cardiogram, or another visual that does the straight lines with occasional spikes.

Maybe a lie detector test. Where the person is lying…

in a hammock! (HAHAHA!!!!!!!!!)

But that joke actually doesn’t work, because in addition to not being funny, the lies are supposed to be the spikes in the polygraph, right?

No one really knows, because the polygraph science is much less scientific than Hammock Humor, which would be more like the scientific-based cardiogram where the flatter line would be more representative of humor.

And a dead person.

Or, more accurately, a dying person.

But much unlike them really, because the Hammock Humor audience is very much alive, other than those who have died and gone on to Hammock Heaven–RIP (on a hammock)–and already know this information we are telling you right now, obviously, because Hammock Reviews and all of their associated readings are free on audiobooks in heaven************.

So if you wish to wait until death and subsequent heaven entry to read the rest of the Hammock Humor stellar story, that is understandable. But for those of you who may have not rested in enough hammocks to get into Hammock Heaven, we will proceed with continuing to discuss this difference between the standup structure and the humorous atmosphere so atmospherically-endowed in Hammock Humor.

We continue here by discussing comedy clubs, where many stand ups do their thing.

While it is true comedy clubs will liquor you up to help lubricate the laughing at jokes, humor is more inherently atmospheric because it is embedded into itself, not needing the actual physical environment the audience is consuming it in to be any sort of way.

The humor is the environment itself, the context, the atmosphere, the mood. For while many definitions of humor relate to jokes or comedy, humor can also be synonymous with mood.

Someone is in good humor or bad humor. They are in a good mood or bad mood. It is the overall weather of one’s personal environment. The tone that has been set.

Of course it is not binary with just two options of good and bad, like the great Steelers/Browns rivalries of old. Just as there are many ways for Pittsburgh to dominate Cleveland, there are many shades of humor. We certainly know that Hammock Humor overlaps with the good, and is very environmentally sound, like the great compost piles of old that certainly, despite their age, could always be described as very fresh.

But hippies are not the lone harvesters of humor. There are other soundly fresh senses of humor of course, custodians of fertile grounds for growing good humor. David Sedaris, for instance, sets a tone of observational irony featuring rich language that creates a humorous atmosphere. It is consistently interesting throughout–if you find it interesting; otherwise you probably feel it is consistently uninteresting throughout, which is quite different from a situation where you could really enjoy a comic, but not the comedy club you are seeing them in–or vice versa.

In our humorous world, if you like the tone, you’ll indulge in the details. If you don’t enjoy the tone, the details don’t really matter as you’re already uninterested. It’s all about the tone. There’s no big crescendo. No momentous moment like an O’Henry twist, no intrigue of a suspenseful ending like each episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents. It’s not like going on vacation to see a concert or sporting event that is the trip’s big moment, the voyage’s central purpose, the peregrination’s punchline of sorts. It’s like going to the tropical beach, where the atmosphere is the attraction. Either you like the atmosphere or you don’t. Only a change of weather–something affecting the atmosphere–could change your mind or mood.

And when there is a hammock perfectly placed on a beautiful tropical beach with sunny, gorgeous whether, we not need not an Alfred Hitchcock ending or an O’Henry twist, where the beautiful ocean is really just a painting and the hammock is nothing more than a hospital bed where we lie dying from pneumonia. No, we can forego all of that plotty nonsense to enjoy some peace and relaxation.

Unlike the beautiful beach that just needs a hammock to attract travelers, tourists, and talented Hammock Review witty wordsmiths alike, a sitcom set needs a popular sitcom, made famous through a series of jokes, to make itself (the simple sitcom set) a tourist attraction. There is nothing special about the sets of Seinfeld, Two and Half Men, or Everybody Loves Raymond. Cheers’ set may be more aesthetically pleasing, especially those finding libations attractive, but the show is what makes it a tourist destination.

We could—if we cared not about brevity, your time, or your levels alcohol consumptions necessary to read this intellectual description about Hammock Humor—got lost in the weeds and stray further from our hammocks in considering if a sitcom, with its situations, or a standup comic, with their persona, are more atmospheric that another: the point is the rely more on mechanisms of jokes while humor relies more on atmosphere (one is not better than the other: they simply have different motors).

So, in short: we need not a famous show to be filmed on a beautiful beach to enjoy our vacation there.

Though a hammock certainly helps to enjoy the atmosphere to the fullest.

Along with a Hammock Review or two to gently enjoy the atmosphere of Hammock Humor.

Does such an atmosphere feature an understated, effortless, laissez-faire sexiness?

Or is it more of an understated, effortless, laissez-faire kindness?

Perhaps you read the forecast through a different lens where you interpret an understated, effortless, laissez-faire intellectual inventiveness?

Or Hammock Humor for you could feel more like an understated, effortless, laissez-faire humbleness.

Or maybe, it’s all much more simple than that. Maybe Hammock Humor for you simply feels like, and is described as, Sweet Livin’.

In inherently an understated, effortless, laissez-faire sexiness wrapped in kindness wrapped in intellectual inventiveness wrapped in humbleness like the great matryoshka dolls of old or the great birthday gifts of new where the parents wrap the coveted gift of a small size in a series of bigger boxes in the classic babushka-based dad joke nesting for months in Amazon.com boxes in the garage*************.

A joke you may have performed yourself as an adult.

Or received as a kid.

Or maybe that’s how you got kids: your romantic husband proposed to you by putting the engagement ring in a series of bigger boxes. It was great fun at the time, and you got a good kid or two out of it, but the marriage did not work out because he was much dumber and less clever than you, who finally wrapped things up by putting the divorce papers in an envelope that was inside a series of larger envelopes.

Even if done of this describes you or none of this has happened to you, you are at least probably familiar with this kind of trickery gift giving, this kind of joke.

And it’s not a bad joke.

It’s not a bad scam, like being tricked to falling in love with a fake person on the internet who takes all of your money and pride and does not even give you the child that would permit you to make dad jokes.

But it is a scam. A harmless scam, which dads are great at creating. The greatest dad scam of all is surely the dad bod. Rather than going to the gym or eating healthy, the dad can simply let his body go as a demonstration and verification of his great parenting and hard work. He would go to the gym, of course, if he weren’t spending so much time providing for his kids and then spending time with his kids after work. The middle-aged man with abs, the logic runs is a fucking asshole (unless of course that man is Bonsai Bobby, in the future, when he reaches middle-age and still has the baddest badass abs in the world).

If a younger man, well before middle-age, wishes to cancel his gym membership, his only choice that society will accept is having a kid. Naturally, a young, fatherless man cannot make a dad joke or have a dad bod and expect such fatherly forgiveness.

See, not all scams are bad in small doses (“everything in moderation,” as they say); they remind us that at times life is but a dream, but a scam, in some ways and we should not take it so seriously. It is another positive element of the dad joke momentarily wake up call, discussed earlier. So no, not all dad jokes are bad jokes.

They are stock jokes.

And well-stocked they are. As they are always in stock.

So they are always there for us, the familiar waiting around to be called upon.

The working comedian “plays” the crowd a little bit.

Standup: Where are you from?

Audience Member: New Jersey.

Standup: New Jersey, huh? Which exit?

The audience laughs because they are liquored up. And they want to laugh. They want a respite from the serious world (they want, if they only knew what was good for them, to be on sweetlivinproductions.com).

They may have heard the joke before. They may have not.

But it is familiar.

They may have driven through New Jersey before, on the turnpike, a series of exits.

They may have not.

They may know that is a question a person from New Jersey may ask another to determine their location in lieu of the common question in most states, “which part?”

The person may respond with not only the exit, but with something it is notable for, like Jon Bon Jovi or Bruce Springsteen or something else that is vintage New Jersey.

But the audience may not know that.

They may know New Jersey’s reputation for being second fiddle to New York City, or even Philadelphia. That teams like the New York Giants and Jets play there, but still have the New York name, as though Jersey is just a place New Yorkers store things, like their beloved sports teams. A nesting garage of sorts.

Any given audience member may or may not know that.

At the very least, they are familiar with the term “the armpit of America” referring to New Jersey. They know the reputation. And they laugh because a state that is nothing more than a series of exits, at least by reputation, stinks—like an armpit. If they do not outright laugh, they at least chuckle.

Like the comic knew they would. Dollars to donuts, the comedian feels, we are on the same page. With little risk, it is an easy intellectualism. Of course it will not go over the audience’s head, for anyone in attendance could think:

“I know why that is funny, or supposed to be. Or I can find a reason for it to be.”

And so it feels empowering:

“I am not an idiot after all like my recent job performance review supposes me to be: I know New Jersey is the armpit of America, according to the cliche. And when my son or daughter asks me why that is funny, like a good dad I will be able to explain it to them in detail.”

In a way, the familiar is a stroke of the ego and makes one feel good.

But not terrific.

What would make the audience feel terrific is an actual good joke. It could be the same setup: the person is from New Jersey. And the audience thinks the comedian will simply say the “which exit?” and so the audience relaxes and readies for a slight chuckle when the good comedian hits them with a surprise punchline that does not involve turnpike humor, causing the audience to belly laugh. The ego needs not be stroked because the ego is long gone; we forgot where we are and we don’t care. We have lost, for however long the laugh lasts, any grasp on seriousness, any footing in a world that requires ego. We are not grounded and we are not self-conscious. We are floating and free.

What would that punchline be?

We don’t know. This isn’t standup comedy, after all; it is Hammock Humor. And while we do love stand up comedy–especially the good stuff–we usually prefer to lie in hammocks.

So we cannot provide any novel, good punchlines for you. We can only tell you what the stock standup jokes are. And what they do, how they stroke the ego. Which is not always bad; sometimes we need, especially as noted above the dwindling hormone production as we age, a stroke of the ego.

And/or a reassuring stroke of the head, like those given by the comforting and gentle hands of the grandmother, the babushka or the mother, the matryona.

Such assuaging is simultaneously soft and invigorating. A simply solace. Something familiar. Motherly. To be in the arms of a nurturer (who may be a chain-smoking Vegas or Atlantic City bumbling career working comedian—or a chain-smoking career mother or grandmother, who could also be from Vegas or Atlantic City, but statistically speaking is probably from somewhere else).

But there are only so many effective strokes in a dad joke routine. Where a Russian doll set may have at most ten dolls, dad jokes normally cannot even go that long, before the gig is up.

But one can lay in a hammock all day on vacation. So one can hang themselves in Hammock Humor much longer than dad joke sets.

Maybe even their whole life, though that is certainly not ideal. Just as there are other parts of sweetlvinproductions.com that do not feature hammocks, there are other places in the worldly world to visit that may not have hammocks.

Oh, but you can indeed lie in it for a long time; like the great Energizer Bunnies of Old, they just keep going and going and going. In essence, a dad joke or two is fine in a hammock, but the running time of hammock-lounging (and the derivative humor thereof) far exceeds the acceptable running time of dad jokes. You can get a short grin from dad jokes. But you can indeed get a good, solid, long-lasting grin from Hammock Humor.

It helps to be intoxicated.

So it helps to have a babysitter for your kids.

Yes, dad jokes may be better for parenting.

And work. Dad jokes may be safer to tell in the workplace. They help your coworkers know that you are a loser who’s serious about work.

To be clear, you can simultaneously be serious about work and cool, but that’s humor for another day.

Another workday.

Use those valuable vacation days you’ve saved for Hammock Humor.

When you wake up when you want and where you want (a hammock) to and go to sleep when you want to and where you want (a hammock, the same one you went to sleep in because you sleep so well on vacation).

No need for alarm clocks or sleeping aids.

For you have Hammock Humor to help.

And after effectively waking you up from seriousness, it is now time for the hammock and its humor to gently put you to sleep.

Completing the life cycle, the circle of life.

In the end, in the sum of things: hammocks, along with their good humor, are what separate humans from zombies, who typically don’t sleep, who typically don’t have a great sense of humor, who typically are illiterate and have never produced or written great literature.

Which I suppose is irrelevant because they don’t even know how to build a library to hold the great literature, build the bookshelves to house it, or even connect to Wi-Fi to read great literature on great websites like sweetlivinproductions.com.

They don’t even know how to cook a decent meal, for God’s sake.

They are not producers: they are decayers. They rot things away. Rather searching for positive things, like a hammock, they search for destructive things, like destruction.

And they are generally not great with directions. Rather than using modern technology, like Google Maps, or the great navigational instruments of old, like a compass, they just follow other dumb zombies, few of which have proper cell phones with data to power Google Maps.

They don’t know their way around a city, even if nicely laid out in a grid pattern, or a small town. They typically don’t even know their way around a hammock; a zombie couldn’t tell the difference between a hammock and a fatal shot to the head if it hit them in the head.

Which is how most zombie literature recommends that zombies be dealt with. However, if these zombie apocalypses have reoccurred for centuries—even with the Other Internet filled with great zombie headshot strategies—we should finally admit that maybe the headshot is not a sustainable or long-term strategy.

Maybe we should find another strategy to combatting zombies.

Like art, such as the great The Cranberries songs of old.

Or, when we lack such musical talk, another kind of art.

Like humor.

So we could write a humorous book.

But not all of us have that kind of commitment, so write 250 pages. That’s a lot of pages.

So maybe another relation of the humor family.

Like stand-up comedy.

But some of us are not so athletic as the great stand-up comedians of old who could be on their feet for long periods of time and we instead prefer lying down, and lounging in hammock.

So we could go with an even other brand of humor yet.

Hammock Humor.

Which is convenient because that happens to be the exact topic we’ve been discussing.

And it (Hammock Humor and other funnies) can be a more sustainable and effective means to combat zombiism than headshots. For a headshot kills a zombie. Humor and laughter rehumanizes them.

When we are stressed with the weight of seriousness, we can often not truly be awake. And when are stressed with the weight of seriousness, we can often not go to sleep. And so we become zombies, who are annoying, and so we then kill each other with headshots.

It’s all right there in the boring expensive history books recommended to you in the form of a requirement by academic institutions charging students obscene amounts while here we’ve summed it up here for free, which is the very nature of the Sweet Livin’ Education where you can earn a lot of money (citation: Lincoln, Abraham: “A penny saved is a penny earned).

In so just as we have help waken you (citation: if reading this, you are awake) with the enlightenment of this so handsomely-hung Hammock Humor descriptor, it is time to put you to sleep.

No, not like the great veterinarians of old and new, for we are not claiming that Hammock Humor is so robust or strong that it is like taking a horse tranquilizer, or sleeping pill to doze off at night. No, that is not the case. That would be far from truth, and we do not like to stray too far from the truth here as to get too lost returning to it.

So the truth is: where a dad joke is like drinking chamomile tea to fall asleep, Hammock Humor has the strength of something like deeply-steeped kava root tea or barely-steeped valerian root tea. Valerian root tea steeped for a lengthy time can be very strong and would be overdoing it, metaphorically speaking, and would be putting our metaphor right to sleep.

And this metaphor is not ready to go to sleep just yet. It is more in a pre-sleep lounging position.

Hammock Humor, itself an acclaimed lounger, is more in the category of low-dose melatonin. Not high dose.

There will be no crazy dreams.

Unless they are crazy good.

But they are more likely to be gentle and soothing.

And like Hammock Humor, the dreams may not always make sense.

But they feel good.

Because they are good.

They are sweet.

They are alive.

They are living.

They are are Sweet Livin’.

They are living the dream—and not sarcastically so.

They are indeed great dreams.

And you can analyze them–or not–in whatever lazy method you so choose.

And if none of this is a satisfactory explanation of Hammock Humor then, well, who cares? Just lie in the hammock and enjoy the moment and allow any of our imperfections here to fall through the cracks.

And there are many open spaces embedded into the design of most hammocks to allow many imperfections to fall through, whether that be with Hammock Humor or with our dreams.

For our dreams need not be error-free or foolproof. They need not be fallacy-free. Simply free.

Your dreams need not account for how you pay for the property tax on the house of your dreams. Your dreams simply account for the house itself, dreaming it, full with happy hammocks (and people).

Those open spaces in the hammock allow logic to drip out of our dreams, like the great culinary strainers of old (and new), so our dreams can be the rich, robust, concentrated stuff: pulp free and starch free. Smooth. Sweet. Sweet Livin’.

It is as if the great hammock designers of old planned for our imperfections and wove in gaps just for that precise purpose.

Well, that precise purpose and airflow.

Well, that precise purpose, airflow, and structural integrity.

But we don’t have to know all of the details of the designs, their histories, or the manner in which hammocks are made to enjoy them.

We just do.

And we don’t have to know the details of the designs and dynamics supporting Hammock Humor to enjoy it.

We just have to be drunk.

You don’t have to know your constellations, you don’t have to know the science, you don’t have to know how to add, divide, and measure the charts and the diagrams to enjoy the stars.

You just have to look up at the sky.

Or listen to a Cyndi Lauper song, Unhook the Stars, and hang your own star, of you starring in your own story, your own constellation, just like you would hang your own hammock on a pair of trees, the great grounded Gemini constellation in dendrology terms.

The Learn’d Astronomer’s voice is fading as you fall asleep into your own, much more interesting, much fresher, and much enjoyable, much more humorous, and much sweeter Learn’d Astronomer lectures.

Dreams.

Dreams of anything.

They need not make sense or others.

Or yourself.

With equations so complicated the Learn’d Astronomer could never Matt Damon************** them and get tenure if he centered his research around them and instead would end up working, like the great janitors of old, as a janitor cleaning up for other boring lecturers who pursued more solvable worldly work, dreams are often impossible to understand.

That’s why the dream interpretation industry has been thriving since even before Daniel made his well-documented mark in the dream interpretation game.

At best, we can have them interpreted, and send someone a lot of money over the internet to do so or give them some incense, a spot in the royal court, and power over all other wise men.

Alternatively, we can keep our money and incense, and just enjoy the dreams.

If they are good ones.

Of course, none of us want nightmares.

Those serious dreams of the serious world.

The falling from the cliff.

The deadly crash.

The going to school with no pants on.

But honestly, we deserved to be embarrassed if we made it all the way to school and suddenly realized we forgot our pants.

Sometimes shame is deserved.

Seriously.

But yet we seek shame with such frequency, even if subconsciously so.

Why?

It’s too much of that serious shit again.

Let’s not seek it so much.

So often it has been said—including by Warren Brown, a guy on the internet who has written a lot of articles—that we can dictate our dreams by choosing what we think before we fall asleep.

It turns out we can even hack our dreams, writing new, endings to nightmares, like the great Walt Disneys of old.

And it also turns out, we can lie in hammocks, be in good Hammock Humor during the day, so that we are also in good Hammock Humor when we sleep, and have good dreams that are in good humor.

So as we fade further towards sleep***************, Hammock Humor, like the great downstream rowboat excursions of old, is but a dream.

Of a world where we laugh at the absurd showcased in the logical, serious world, rather than be overwhelmed by its pressures. We humor zombies out of the their walking dead status rather than punch them in the face. We relax in the humor of the world around us rather than hassle in hardship, absorbing all of the anxiety so ever-present in the serious world so set on violence where the humorous world is so set on laughter.

Yet it is the same world, physically. And all of us, all too often accept the invitation to see it through a serious lens. Sure, sometimes such an invitation is helpful, but we are all to eager to accept it all too often.

And all too seldom see the world through the wonderful Hammock Humor lens, which lets us sleep well, like the great soothing sleep masks of old.

Whether a dream at night, or a daydream, Hammock Humor is sweet.

And rather than the cranberry tartness of zombies, we live in the endless innocence and adventurous of perpetual first-love Dreams.

At first thought, the first love for us may be a boy or girl somewhere in our youthful years; but on second thought, our first love is this absurd world and our curiosity of the absurdities and wonders at our even younger youthful years.

As early as innocent infants.

But how quick the years go by and how quick we lose that child’s wonder, our own wonder; how quick—in a split second, one year**************** to the next*****************—we go from Dreams to Zombies.

And once we have zombified ourselves once, a few dad jokes, a few peekaboos, a few funny faces will not really resuscitate our wonder.

So it may initially seem list a slap to the face is the necessary stronger medicine.

But fisticuffs are not the remedy.

Violence is not the answer.

It takes more than a punch to the head or a punchline.

It takes a whole ambiance.

A positive, happy, comforting ambiance.

That embraces the absurd.

Because the absurd in this world is not going anywhere.

So we either get mad at it or we embrace it laugh.

Hammock Humor chooses laughter.

Setting the Hammock Humor ambiance takes a multi-faceted approach, like the great ambiances of old, such as the romantic ambiance where the sense are seduced with scents, lightning, music, etc.

But to create the Hammock Humor ambiance you need not dim the lights, light a floral-scented Yankee Candle, or dust off an old Barry White album: you just need to be ready to relax your body and mind into a lounging and laughing position.

Reading this boring piece like this is a good start. Sure, this lovely literature may not exactly be a traditional panty dropper the way the Maestro of Love’s version of “Just the Way You Are” is or get panties thrown up onstage like “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love, Babe.” No, this lengthy piece is not anyone’s first step towards romance—unless your partner gets so bored reading it, they would rather just close this webpage and start kissing you. Instead, this long explanation of Hammock Humor simply seeks to be more humorous than the great boring manuals and textbooks of old. As such, like the much-anticipated great album drops of old, the dropping of this lovely literary leaflet, like the great falling lone-wolf leaves of the great concrete poets of old, is but a small drop in helping to nourish the overall Hammock Humor ambiance. If a panty or two is dropped or thrown onstage along the way, that is an interesting development indeed and a helpful stimulus for the lingerie industry, but it is not the goal. Though people often do find their soulmate when they’re not looking for it. So maybe instead of trying so hard and spending so much money attempting to impress potential partners with roses and expensive dinners at fancy restaurants that result in racking up substantial credit card debt, people should try more often to not impress romantic interests by being their authentic selves and lounging in hammocks, thereby creating a Hammock Humor ambiance rather than a romantic one.

And a much more important and direct step to Hammock-Humor-ambiance creation than reading this precious and pretty prolonged précis of Hammock Humor is actually lying in a hammock.

Hammocks travel well, but you can’t bring a hammock everywhere. Yet you can bring a Hammock Humor mindset everywhere.

Sure, there’s some places you shouldn’t, like a brain surgeon’s operating room.

But this is not brain surgery.

This is Hammock Humor.

Much out of network, we assure you, unless you have some wonderfully quack health insurance.

And really is our choice: give ourselves a stroke by beating our head against the wall trying to navigate a serious healthcare system in that poopy, smelly-yet-simultaneously-sterilized hospital ambiance.

Or give ourselves a good time by lying in a hammock.

This world is absurd and full of mysteries. What mysteries will we choose?

The serious ones?

Or the silly ones?

Hammock Humor chooses, and is itself, the silly variety.

And so was all this Hammock Humor discussion a waste of time?

No! Not if you enjoyed it: because this is a vacation!

And whether it’s successfully executed or completely the opposite, let’s all successfully stay in good, Hammock Humor.

For Hammock Humor is certainly the #1 choice in humor for vacations, and breaks from responsibilities.

Yes, safely wrapped up in the arms of the hammock and all its good Humor, you have a longer hug than the dad jokes afford you: you are in the almost endless matronymic embrace of Hammock Humor.

For as long as the Hammock Humor lasts, you are no longer the adult with the responsibilities, but the kid safe in the bosom of the hammock, rocking you gently to sleep.

Let’s just hope someone is watching the kids.

*So well-documented in the periennal training videos for airline employees.

**Like these.

***Sell your accounting stocks now? It depends on how much of a long-game you are playing. For now, we suggest you consult your certified financial advisor regarding your retirement planning, at least until Sweet Livin' Productions has produced a comprehensive Sweet Livin' financial services sector (section) for safe and secure investing as we move closer and closer to The Beautiful Hammock Future.

****Thus having to sleep on the ground and get swarmed with fire ants that emotionally scars them for life, causing them to go on a destructive path that brings down everyone around them, somewhat like the NIN song "Hurt" famously covered by Johnny Cash.

*****possibly accompanied by an actual funeral, not it adjectival associate funereal, modifying something alive into being more dead that it actually is, than it actually needs to be.

******Communicating in ways actually worth of a eliciting a chuckle or a laugh, or even a modest grin.

*******This very candid (demonstrative) pronoun "that" perhaps is referring to here both laying in a hammock while also improving the good sense of humor phrase. #Multitasking

********The Beautiful Hammock future sides with science on this one. As there will be no slapping of faces in The Beautiful Hammock Future.

*********Or meters, for those in countries that use logical measurement systems.

**********unless you invested that hundreds of dollars each month in Sweet Livin' Merch, which helped fund funny videos.

***********shorten, specially in a coarse and un-pseudo-intellectual way that is in complete contract with Hammock Review editorial standards.

************if you are listening to this free on audiobook and thought you were simply on earth, you might be in the process of Matt Damoning The (Great) Carlisle Dilemma and making Heaven […] a Place on Earth.

*************If the garage is owned by someone that has as many Etsy medals in their Etsy trophy case as some Hammock Review contributors may humbly boast, then the boxes used in the babushka scam are random repurposed boxes so classical of Etsy vendors.

**************verb (used with object)

meaning: to solve

The Steelers GM finally Matt Damoned their problems at quarterback and now they are Super Bowl contenders like they should be every year because of their greatness.

Note: The verb form of Matt Damon should not be confused with (though often is) the proper noun form of the same word, which means an above average American actor who was especially good at choosing roles earlier on in his career.

***************for those of us not already passed out from the alcohol necessary to get us this far into this painting of words, having the good dream that their head lies in a hammock instead of their computer where they were imbibing in their passion for belles-lettres.

****************1993, let’s for instance.

*****************1994, let’s say.