A simpler age

I suspect

salad dressing

harkens back to

a more

modest time in

our society







I am often asked,

what would happen if I were to die before finishing my life’s work at trefology?


Well, …


dear Readers,

do not fear

my passing.


When my day

comes I will

embrace the


with open arms.



Because I have a back-up plan!


Now, I have not, yet, fully

fleshed out this plan,

but, here is my pledge to you:


I will, one day,

return to earth,

to complete

my work here

at trefology!

How? Again, I don’t, yet, know.


But that is why,

when I die,

I have requested

to be buried

in a straight jacket,


wrapped in chains,

and with

the lid of the coffin

nailed air-tight.


That way, on the chance that I am successful,


it will be a double good trick.

Inside trefology


I ever learned

I learned from a


I Ever Learned

I Learned

in Kindergarten




“Anti-gravity zoo” by Mary Cellini

© all rights reserved 2022




Good news, readers!


My ‘Jokes for Kids’


is a hit with the kids!


Just this past

weekend,  I was

dining with

my betrothed at a

cafe in

East Hollywood,

when a

six year old boy

came up to my

table and said,

“I enjoy your work”


He asked

if I would sign his

copy of

Hi-lights for Children magazine,

and then,


it hits me —

he was confusing me

for another writer!


But I didn’t want

to disappoint.

So, I nodded politely,

and signed,

“Garry Cleveland Myers”

over the

Goofus & Gallant cartoon.


Then I finished my meal.

A tale of monomania

part one

The power of books, or, What to do to avoid a spanking


Growing up,

I was always

getting into some

sort of mischief.


I was always

getting caught, too,

and, then,

soundly spanked.


“Just wait til your father comes home!” My mother would say to me.


And I wondered,

What could I do to avoid any further spankings?


And, then,

the answer came to me, 

and it came to me,

in the form of a book.


And, so, knowing a

spanking was imminent,

I went to the study,

and found the thickest

book on the shelf, and


concealed that book

in the

back-side of my pants.


Then, later,

as fore-told, my father

came home from work,

heard what I had done,

stormed into my room,

dropped me over his knee,

pulled down my pants,


and, then

got lost in a good book.


“Son, this is going to

hurt me more than

it’s going to hurt you …


… They call me, Ishmael …”