You can’t make this up.
You may think this is made up because it involves Bigfoot or aliens or female orgasms.
However, rest assured in the knowledge that this is not about any of those mostly real things, nor is this made up.
People like to say “You can’t make this up” when they tell amazing stories about the time their dog got its head stuck in a KFC bucket or how, if you squint your eyes enough, Abe Lincoln looks like Mr. Peanut with his head stuck in a KFC bucket, or maybe it was the one about how aunt Matilda had a peanut allergy and a beard like Abe Lincoln.
Either way, I promise you this is not made up.
You know what else you cannot make up? Jalapeno ice-cream, running shoes for dogs, Sarah Palin having authored at least two books—in English, no less—and the president having admitted to trying dog meat. (Apparently the sneakers didn’t aid in the getaway.)
If this were made up, it would be about the time you got high on cocaine and ran down the street in an “I Heart Huckabees” T-shirt while singing The Pixies “Where Is My Mind” at the top of your lungs. And then, the next day, your mom kicked you out of her basement until you promised to go to the community mental health clinic.
If this were made up, it would be about how gay marriage is to blame for global warming … or global cooling, whichever is worse and also caused by the bumping of weenises.
If this were made up, it would be about how easy it is to get an adorable Shih Tzu puppy to stop leaving her adorable bundles on the rug outside the bathroom door.
But, as was earlier indicated, you can’t make this up. (If you paid more attention, you would know that.)
Maybe someday, when scientists have solved world hunger, and the Earth is no longer heating (or cooling) at an alarming rate, and Dr. Nussbaum convinces your mother that you’ve got your drug habit under control, and someone has a good explanation for why you have to wade through a goddamn puddle of oil to get to the high-end peanut butter, maybe then you could make this up.
But even then you couldn’t.
Sure, there are those who misuse the privilege of deciding whether something is or isn’t made up. Like your friend who said “You can’t make this up” after he claims he found two double-yolk eggs in the same carton, or how your grandma said “You can’t make this up” when she recounted how she saw Elvis in the women’s underwear aisle at Walmart last week and that he winked at her and said “Uh-huh” to himself while he pawed through a bargain bin of satin undies.
But I think we know better, because double-yolkers are a rare treat, my friend. And, let’s face it, grandma is a pathological liar.
Maybe, just maybe, if a lobster the size of a German Shepard rode a horse off a diving board onto a net supported by blind, diabetic, midget accountants dressed as Ewoks, who then proceeded to do the lobster’s taxes—but probably not even then—maybe you could get away with saying “You can’t make this up.”
But, no. (By the way, the highly improbable and utterly fantastical series of events just described is known on the street as a “working Congress” … cuz that shit ain’t never gonna happen!)
Unlike you, I have plenty of stories which rightfully end with me saying, “You can’t make this up.”
Like this one time, my family was eating fried chicken and somehow the dog got his head stuck—never-mind.
Who am I to decide who gets to say what can and can’t be made up? I’m the man with the gold. And, as the saying goes, he who has the gold makes the pancakes. And, as we all know, he who pancake wins!
But enough waffling, for crape’s sake.
I know what you’re thinking, this is no time to fritter away precious time or word count on silly puns and childish wordplay—so why are you?
No matter what season it is, nothing beats a convenient segue.
Regardless of how old you get, or how young your sex doll is, people are always trying to convince you of things that they assure you cannot be not made up.
When I was quite young, my own parents convinced me that an elderly voyeur with a penchant for toys watched me all year long. They even said he would occasionally creep into the house, unannounced, to leave gifts, put things in my socks and drink our milk.
I never did believe them, of course, because it all sounded made up.
Year after year, mother and father assured me that I’d better be good, and that they were not making it up that this so-called “saint” would visit our home, especially on Dec. 25, leaving behind all kinds of goodies.
But, as most kids do, I finally came around to their way of thinking.
Especially after the authorities caught that homeless pervert and sentenced him to 20 years in prison, which just goes to show that you can’t make this stuff up!
Despite its dubious veracity, I don’t think we use the phrase often enough. (I’ll wait while you look up “dubious” and “veracity.” Just kidding, I’m sure you’re very smart—and I’m not just making that up.) Imagine how handy it would be when you find yourself in a difficult situation with the wife.
“Just because I have lipstick on my collar and perfume on my jacket and my belt buckle smells like pickled herring, that doesn’t mean I was at the strip club all night.”
“Oh, really,” says the wife.
“For your information,” says the me, “I went to the kosher deli to pick up some kippers because I know you love them, and I just happened to walk in on two transsexual Japanese fisherman as they were sticking the place up. I hit one over the head with the bottle of perfume I was going to give you for our anniversary seven months from now, and I tied the other up with my belt until the authorities arrived.”
She’ll probably still divorce you and marry that cocky dentist who lives down the street.
When your kids come to your crappy apartment on the “you-can’t-make-this-up” side of town, one Saturday-a-month, and brag about how cool their new scuba-diving, sky-diving, Ferrari-driving, bull-fighting, sky-writing, name-brand-soda-buying step-dad is, you may get the urge to call “B.S.” But they’ll be well within their right to say, “Dad, you can’t make this up.” Besides, B.S. is busy with his own divorce.
While you can’t make this up, you can take some solace in knowing you are not alone.
Book publishers told Michael Crichton, “You can’t make this up!” But he just backed over their azaleas and went home and wrote Jurassic Park anyway.
They told Bill Clinton “You can’t make this stuff up.”
He just looked right into the camera and said “I did not have sexual relations with that woman Ms. Lewinsky” and then he wiped his pants off with what looked like a giant blue napkin. (Bill Clinton also loves mustard, and my book—available on Amazon for $8.99. Remember, you can’t make this up.)
I even told my wife, “You can’t make this stuff up” before I introduced her to my family.
For some reason, she didn’t seem very surprised.
The moon landing, now that’s another thing you can’t make up. Unless they did make it up. In which case, I’m furious.