Grammatical Errors Comic Strip

I found this online a little while ago. Thought I’d share. 😉



Dedicated to…

I stumbled upon a set of comical book dedications the other day. In my opinion, they’re too great not to share, so here they are:

City of Golden Fire (Otherland, Book One) by Tad Williams
“This book is dedicated to my father, Joseph Hill Evans, with love. Actually, Dad doesn’t read fiction, so if someone doesn’t tell him about this, he’ll never know.”

River of Blue Fire (Otherland, Book Two) by Tad Williams
“This book is dedicated to my father, Joseph Hill Evans, with love. As I said before, Dad doesn’t read fiction. He still hasn’t noticed that this thing is dedicated to him. This is Volume Two — let’s see how many more until he catches on.”

Mountain of Black Grass (Otherland, Book Three) by Tad Williams
“This is still dedicated to you-know-who, even if he doesn’t. Maybe we can keep this a secret all the way to the final volume.”

Sea of Silver Light (Otherland Book Four) by Tad Williams
“My father still hasn’t actually cracked any of the books — so, no, he still hasn’t noticed. I think I’m just going to have to tell him. Maybe I should break it to him gently.

“‘Everyone here who hasn’t had a book dedicated to them, take three steps forward. Whoops, Dad, hang on there for a second…'”

Much Ado About Nothing

In honor of Throwback Thursday, I figured I’d share one of my favorite Shakespearean quotes. (For those of you wondering how Shakespeare ties into Throwback Thursday, I read the play referenced in this post’s title a few years ago.)

LEONATO: Well, niece, I hope to see you one day fitted with a husband.

BEATRICE: Not till God make men of some other metal than earth. Would it not grieve a woman to be overmastered with a piece of valiant dust? To make an account of her life to a clod of wayward marl? No, uncle, I’ll none. Adam’s sons are my brethren, and truly I hold it a sin to match in my kindred.

(The bit about “valiant dust” just cracks me up. 😛 )

The Cruelest of Jokes

A writer died and was given the option of going to heaven or hell.

She decided to check out each place first. As the writer descended into the fiery pits, she saw row upon row of writers chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they were repeatedly whipped with thorny lashes.

“Oh my,” said the writer. “Let me see heaven now.”

A few moments later, as she ascended into heaven, she saw rows of writers, chained to their desks in a steaming sweatshop. As they worked, they, too, were whipped with thorny lashes.

“Wait a minute,” said the writer. “This is just as bad as hell!”

“Oh no, it’s not,” replied an unseen voice. “Here, your work gets published.”

– Courtesy of the internet

When Writers Attempt to Tell Jokes

Found this little gem on the internet. Hehehe.

So this man walks into a bar. No, make that a man walks into a dark, smoky bar. No, let’s try a man, looking furtively around the bar, walks into it. That doesn’t work, how about a lanky, tanned man with a prominent chin walks into . . . nope. The bar beckoned to the man and finally he . . . not that either. OK, the man, a blank look on his gaunt face, stumbles into . . .

Let me get back to you, this may take a while.

The Aspiring Writer

I found this online and thought it rather funny–wanted to share it with you all.

There was once a young man who, in his youth, professed his desire to become a great writer.

When asked to define great, he said, “I want to write stuff that the whole world will read, stuff that people will react to on a truly emotional level, stuff that will make them scream, cry, howl in pain and anger!”

He now works for Microsoft writing error messages.