I like to sprinkle goofiness into my stories, and one of my favorite recurring elements is a quirky little gem known as the Dollar Snatcher.
This franchised free shopper publication bursts into the world in my novel, “The Life and Times of Josh Webo.” Imagine this: a tired, rural Montana town where the community newspaper has held sway for over a century. And then comes the Dollar Snatcher, a cheeky, sassy, budget-friendly hub for classified ads, much to the annoyance of the old guard.
The Dollar Snatcher’s true star is “Snatchy,” a cartoon mule lovingly crafted by talented artist and writer Frank Mariani.
With his goofy grin and knack for mischief, Snatchy’s not just a mascot; he’s almost an institution.
This past weekend, inspired by Snatchy’s antics and paper-rustling exploits, I ventured into new creative territory: music. Emboldened by Udio, I composed the “Dollar Snatcher Song.” Please give it a listen!
“Law Talk With Mike” takes you on a high-octane, shag-carpet joyride you’ll enjoy every day.
If you haven’t caught “Law Talk With Mike,” you’re missing the fun boat.
Michael J. Gravlin, Chicago’s legal YouTube maestro, turns courtroom Latin into barroom English quicker than you can shout, “Objection!” The show? Think of it as a comedy club where the American justice system is both the joke and the punchline.
“Law Talk With Mike” is one of those YouTube channels you can’t help but binge, like a “Breaking Bad” season, but with less meth and more legal jargon.
Gravlin’s channel features a compilation of proceedings from our nation’s courts. And, boy, does this guy have a knack for keeping the show rolling. Sovereign citizen starts spouting nonsense? Boom! Out comes the red fez. Something bonkers happens? It’s time for the screaming goat toy. Yeah, you heard me right, a screaming goat toy. It’s like a courtroom version of a laugh track, only always on point.
One recent episode — Gravlin titled it “Vaseline!” — had me in stitches. It involved a defendant caught doing something so embarrassing in his car, parked in a CVS lot, it’d make a Kardashian blush. Gravlin tore into the case with the snark you’d expect from a late-night host, only with a law degree.
But here’s the kicker: Gravlin’s not just some talking head. He’s built a community around these online court shenanigans. The guy’s got over 1,400 episodes under his belt and is closing in on 200,000 subscribers. And amid the humor, he provides genuine insight into the legal process in which he’s been involved as a prosecutor and a personal injury and workers’ compensation attorney.
Thanks to Gravlin’s success, he’s helped turn judges, prosecutors, and even serial defendants into minor celebrities. It’s like the Marvel Cinematic Universe, but for people who can’t fly or shoot lasers from their eyes.
The guy’s got a new episode almost every day, sometimes more. So, if you’re tired of the same old reruns and want something that’ll make you laugh, think, and occasionally cringe, do yourself a favor and check out “Law Talk With Mike.”
Trust me, it’s the kind of ride you won’t want to get off.
How about something like this for a newspaper’s humor column?
When the highlight of a morning coffee ritual is the bitter aftertaste brought on by the “joke of the day” column in your daily paper, one can’t help but wonder: “When did humor retire and forget to tell the newspapers?”
Joke columns, those tiny blocks of text nestled in the corner of the front page, are a moth-eaten relic from a bygone era — not charming antiques but the stuff of musty basements.
The so-called “jokes” they sputter out have aged worse than a water-damaged Shakespearean folio, and even that would be a more amusing read.
One might argue, “They were funny in 1930!” If you hold this opinion, I’d recommend a thorough reality check, accompanied by a comprehensive sense of humor transplant. These chronically recycled jests’ monotony and predictable punchlines are as engaging as a Kamala Harris word salad.
Worse, these chestnuts make “dad jokes” look like comedic masterpieces.
The brilliance of humor lies in unexpectedness, novel insight, and clever subversion of reality. The comedy peddled by these columns delivers none of this.
We’ve advanced in leaps and bounds in every other field, so why do we settle for subpar humor in our daily dose of news?
L.T. Hanlon 