Local Humor
by
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After arranging time off from work and paying twenty-five dollars to park, I walked in to City Hall and asked where I could find the revenue department. The woman at the information desk interrupted her conversation with another “at-large” city worker just long enough to say, “Banama glomma,” and limply gesture in the general direction of nothing in particular. Forthwith, I embarked upon the nebulous course given me, then noticed the words “Revenue Department” in four-foot high letters on a wall in the exact opposite direction. I followed an arrow and wandered through a labyrinth of nondescript hallways, doors and stairs until I eventually found myself back at the information desk. The previous woman was apparently on a break, as there was now a very large man sound asleep behind the counter. Afraid to awaken him, I opted to return to the labyrinth, and this time, by following the sounds of dull moaning, found the cavernous waiting room. There were no clear lines or systems of any kind in effect, only a sprawling gray sea of hopeless humanity. The scene resembled one of those pitiful refugee camps you see on the nightly news. Off in the distance, I could see three cubicles that apparently held the besieged disbursers of official mumbo-jumbo, but there didn’t appear to be any movement of people in their direction. The only time the crowd shrunk in size was when someone committed suicide, starved to death, or was eaten by a marauding band of zombies. I sat on the floor to wait, and after reading Bill Clinton’s autobiography — twice — I decided that I’d rather live my life as an outlaw than die here in the tomb of the unknown taxpayer. I ran home and started packing my bags.
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About the Book
Chestnut Hill Local columnists Mike Todd, Janet Gilmore, Hugh Gilmore, and Jim Harris, (L–R), have not only survived in the troubled and struggling newspaper business, they have amassed a devoted following of fans who shower them with lavish presents like scrapple, bowling balls, and money from Nigerian bank accounts. Until recently, their columns were available only to the readers of the Local, but now you, too, can “LOL” as:
- Hugh warns of the “Enemies of Reading”
- Janet remembers old friends, old flames and ex-coworkers
- Mike deals with wrens, ferrets, and a pregnant wife in his house
- Jim dispenses dubious advice and rails against the system
They each have their own style and shtick, but they share a love of language and an innate ability to find the humor in everyday life. Not since Ben Franklin dined alone at the Mermaid Inn has Chestnut Hill seen such a concentration of comedic talent. Here, from among their hundreds of articles, hand–picked by a rigorous process of “One potato, two potato,” is a rollicking roundup of mirthful monologues for your gracious consideration.
About the Author
HUGH GILMORE is a Philadelphia native who graduated from La Salle College. He has been an anthropologist, a high school English teacher, and the owner of a bookstore. His column, “Enemies of Reading,” is a sophisticated rant against all the things that prevent us from reading more books. JIM HARRIS has lived his whole life in Northwest Philadelphia and has been writing since the age of 12. His column, “Life So Far” is a chronicle of events, real and imagined, in Jim's long and varied career, which has included stints as a rock musician and a professional sports mascot. He is also the author of the award-winning website, “Jimbob's Journal.” He lives in Germantown with his wife Zipora. JANET GILMORE is a retired teacher who grew up in Philadelphia, went to Girls' High, Penn State and N.Y.U. Her Master's at NYU was in Media Ecology. Janet's column is called "Notes from the Belfry.” She lives with her Husband Hugh in Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia. MIKE TODD'S humor columns won first-place Keystone Press Awards in 2006, 2008 and 2009. His column, Over the Top,” focuses on big and small moments in his life. He grew up in Chadds Ford, PA and attended Penn State. He and his wife Kara are expecting their first child this fall.