Is it just me who finds November full of dark and gloomy days?

That means more than the usual number of bad days.

I’ve had my share and you, too.

But none match these.

Here’s a story about a bad day in school:

One day a fourth-grade teacher asked the children what their fathers did for a living. All the typical answers came up — fireman, mechanic, businessman, meatpacker and so forth.

However, little Justin was being uncharacteristically quiet, so when the teacher prodded him about his father, he replied, “My father’s an exotic dancer in a gay cabaret and takes off all his clothes to music in front of other men and they put money in his underwear.”

The teacher, obviously shaken by this statement, hurriedly set the other children to work on some exercises and took little Justin aside to ask him,  “Is that really true about your father?”

“No,” the boy said, “He works for the Democratic National Committee and helped to get Obama elected, but it’s too embarrassing to say that in front of the other kids.”

I overheard another story about a bad day, when I accidentally found myself in an eastside bar, waiting for karaoke night to begin.

There I was sitting at the bar staring at my cup of coffee, when a large, trouble-making biker steps up, grabbed the drink from a man sitting next to me and gulped it down.

“Well, whatcha gonna do about it?” he taunted, as the the man burst into tears and I asked the bartender for more beer nuts.

“Come on, man,” the biker growled, “I didn’t think you’d cry. I can’t stand to see a man crying.”

“This is the worst day of my life,” the man told the biker,” as I moved a bar stool away.  “I’m a complete failure. I was late to a meeting and my boss fired me. When I went to the parking lot, I found my car had been stolen and I don’t have any insurance. I left my wallet in the cab I took home. I found my wife in bed with the mailman, and then my own dog bit me.

“So I came to this bar to work up the courage to put an end to it all, I buy a drink, I drop a capsule in it and sit here watching the poison dissolve. Then you show up and drink the whole thing!

“But enough about me, how’s your day going?” he asked the biker cheerfully.

Nobody has more bad days than the Minnesota Vikings.

The Minnesota Highway Patrol is cracking down on speeders heading

into Minneapolis.

For the first offense, they give you two Vikings tickets.

If you get stopped a second time, they make you use them.

Q. What do you call 47 millionaires around a TV watching the Super Bowl?

A. The Minnesota Vikings

Q. What do the Vikings and Billy Graham have in common?

A. They both can make 70,000 people stand up and yell “Jesus Christ”.

Q. How do you keep a Minnesota Viking out of your yard?

A. Put up a goal post.

Q. What do you call a Minnesota Viking with a Super Bowl ring?

A. An imposter, or a thief!

Q. What’s the difference between the Minnesota Viking and a dollar

bill?

A. You can still get four quarters out of a dollar bill.

Q. How many Minnesota Vikings does it take to win a Super Bowl?

A. Nobody Knows!

Q. What do the Vikings and a possum have in common?

A. Both play dead at home and get killed on the road!

I know a guy who had more bad days than anyone should have.

It happened during boot camp in the Navy.

I befriended a guy from Minnesota, who was as naïve as one could be.

On his first day in basic training, the Navy issued him a comb. That afternoon the Navy barber sheared off all his hair. On his second day, the Navy issued Herman a toothbrush. That afternoon the Navy dentist yanked seven of his teeth. On the third day, the Navy issued him a jock strap.

He was never seen again.

Have a nice day!