Are you bad at telling jokes? You can be 100% better in 8 minutes.

Look, I know, 8 minutes doesn't sound like a lot of time, but it IS a lot of time in this day and age. You've got things to do like, I don't know, watch "Alf" reruns or play Candy Crush on your phone or read this blog. Important things.

But if you're someone who ever tells a joke, or if you're a fan of stand-up comedy, or both, this 8-minute breakdown of what makes one hilarious joke by the comedian Louis CK truly funny is for you. This is fascinating stuff. Not to mention the fact that the joke itself is great, to be appreciated particularly by anyone who has ever had to take care of little kids.

Here it is:

Wasn't that cool? I know that neither you nor I necessarily have Louis CK's talent for telling a story, but that doesn't matter. What matters are the elements of the joke and presenting them right, and being committed to the joke. That's how you get laughs.

I'm taking this too seriously, aren't I? I don't know. I just really appreciate a well-told joke. If you're going to tell it, tell it right. That's all I'm saying.

Should you get a stand-up desk?

Yes, you should.

OK, that's a sweeping generalization. A stand-up desk isn't for everybody, but I would suggest it's a good option for most people. I have one in my office and have benefitted greatly from it. Here's what it looks like:

You will note a few things:

(1) See that blue mat? It's a life saver, especially the first few weeks when you're getting used to standing up for most (or part) of the day. Vitamix Chef Adam Wilson gave me that tip, something culinary professionals who are on their feet all day learned long ago.

(2) The desk is adjustable. It can go down to desk level in case I need to sit for any reason.

(3) That little shelf is nice for my coffee cup, Post-It Notes, a handy pen or pencil, knick-knacks, etc. I also have on my mine (you can see it on the left side of the shelf in the bottom photo) a rock from the Appalachian Trail given to me by my neighbor Tim Warneka. It's a reminder that one day I really will walk the entire 2,150-mile AT. I'm telling you, I'm going to do it.

The adjustable height thing is important because you want to get your monitor level just right. Otherwise you'll eventually pay for it in your neck and shoulders. But once you make the initial ergonomic adjustments, you'll be golden.

I find that standing all day keeps me more alert and attentive, and lends itself to having more energy. It's to the point that I can't take sitting for long periods anymore.

Speaking of which, the reason I got the standing desk in the first place wasn't because I have back problems, which is why a lot of people prefer to work standing up. It's because of the emerging body of research suggesting that long periods of sitting are just plain bad for you. That whole "sitting is the new smoking" thing is real. Or at least it's real to me, which is why I keep myself upright most of the day.

Anyway, it's something to consider, assuming your company will allow and/or pay for it. There are other types of stand-up desks from which to choose, including some with larger shelf/desk space, and even treadmill desks on which you can walk while working and get your steps in. I haven't tried one, but they do seem cool.

Ultimately, I wholeheartedly endorse the stand-up work lifestyle. It's what all of the cool kids are doing! Or maybe it's just one uncool kid: me. Either way, think about it.

Thank you for clicking on the ads. You're very nice people.

This past Saturday I wrote a post asking you to click on the ads on my blog because I could make money that way. I was serious that I would appreciate the clicks, but in no way did I expect you to do it. It was mostly a joke.

Except you did it. And you did it well.

So well in fact that I just checked Google AdSense, which tells me that in the last seven days, I have earned $14.98 from blog ad views and clicks.

For comparison's sake, you will note that this was, according to Google AdSense, a full $14.89 higher than what I earned the previous seven days.

So, then...Money earned in seven days before I groveled for clicks: 9 cents. Money earned in two days after I groveled: $14.89.

Once that 15 bucks or so gets added officially added to my account (I think your earnings accrue once a month), my balance will be more than $110, which means Google will finally issue me a check after five years of blogging.

I owe you. Big time.

As I cruise to work in my car listening to a Haydn string quartet from a CD purchased using my blogging revenue, I promise I will think of you. Fondly.

(NOTE: You don't think the Google AdSense people will read this and take away my cash, citing some obscure rule about soliciting ad clicks or something, do you? Maybe we should just keep this between ourselves...)

I'm a puppy, I'm adorable, and I have no qualms about murdering you

(EDITOR'S NOTE: We have no idea where this came from. Maybe it was that two-week-old spinach we ate. We weren't ourselves when we wrote it. Please excuse us.)

Yeah, I know, I'm cute as all get out. And let me tell you, all get out is pretty cute, so that's saying something.

I'm even cuter when I put my head down like this and look up at you. You people are such suckers. I would just as soon bite every one of your faces off, but you all have access to The Food and I need The Food. So cute and cuddly it is.

What you forget is that I'm a wild animal. Well, not "wild" so much anymore. My kind was domesticated a couple of thousand years ago. But that wild gene is still in there, and if you take me to the vet and do that thing to my privates that happened to my brother Max, I will kill you. DO YOU HEAR ME? I WILL KILL YOU.

You don't think I would kill, do you? Perfect, that's exactly what I want you to think. Adopt me, play with me, shower me with affection. Just so long as there's nourishment involved.

But the day will come when you push me over the line. Oh yes, that day will come. Maybe you'll stop giving me The Food that comes in a can and is so much better than The Food that comes in a bag. Maybe you'll forget to let me out and yell in my face when I do the inevitable wee wee on the carpet. Or maybe you'll foolishly subject me to that thing at the vet I mentioned before.

Whatever it is, you will eventually go too far. And when you do, it's lights out time, human. Lights. Out. See this cute little snout of mine? Underneath is a set of fangs that will tear right through your flesh. I'll do it while you're sleeping. Heck, maybe I'll do it while you're awake and amuse myself with your screams of pain.

Because that's how I roll. I'm a natural born killah. Not a "killer," but a killah.

Bottom line? You should have gotten a cat.

My wife, the female Benjamin Button

I have written before about the transformation my wife underwent a few years ago. She became, while not an entirely new person, certainly a different person. An improved version of an already-awesome model, if you will.

Nowadays she's living life in the chaotic context of our family, doing the superhuman things moms do to keep us all going. And she's also working outside the home for the first time since the mid-90s. She's a circulation clerk at Wickliffe Public Library, and that job takes up a considerable chunk of her time.

But then there's also this: She's getting hotter. Women often complain that the aging process discriminates against them, as men get more "distinguished" and they feel they just get, well, older.

That, however, is not the case in my marriage. While I find myself weathering under the ravages of nearly half a century, my wife seems to be getting younger.

This is good in that, you know, I like having the hot wife. But it's bad because I start to look pretty lame in comparison.

It was like this when we were first engaged, too. She was young and thin and pretty, and I looked like I weighed 400 pounds.

Actually, at the time we took our engagement photo (January 1991), I WAS at the heaviest point of my life at 217 pounds. And it was apparently all in my gigantic head. I look like I'm going to lean over and eat her in one bite in that picture.

Anyway, we're back to Beauty and the Beast mode, and I have mixed emotions.

But hey, she has to wear reading glasses and I don't! So there's that.

I'm never going to make real money blogging, but I could make 100 bucks if you do one thing that won't benefit you in the least

This is an insanely selfish blog post and I'm a bad person for writing it.

But I want my $100.

If you've been a reader of this space over the few years, you may have noticed that Blogger.com places ads here and there around the blog. I get money for displaying those ads. Pennies, mind you, just pennies.

But those pennies add up.

The more people that visit the blog, the more money I get. And what's more, the more people that actually click on those ads, the more money I get.

Do you see where I'm going here?

My plan is this: How about you go off and click on one or two of those ads? I don't care if you stay on whatever website they take you to. Just click on them. Then go about your day as usual. Don't even give me or my bank account a second thought.

What will happen, though, is that my Google Ads account balance will grow. Again, by pennies, but it will grow.

Right now that balance is about $95. It represents several years' worth of on-and-off blogging and thousands of subsequent eyeballs that have viewed and/or clicked on ads in my blog.

Google Ads will not issue payment until a blogger reaches $100.

We're so close, people, so close. Well, I'm so close. As I've freely admitted, there's absolutely nothing in this deal for you, other than the satisfaction of knowing that, with just a few mouse clicks (or even a few dozen, if you're so inclined), you've added to my collection of classical CDs.

Because that's what I'm going to do with the money, you understand. I'm going to go on a classical CD shopping spree on Amazon.com. It's exactly the sort of stupid, nerdy thing you would expect me to do, and I don't plan to let you down.

The CDs I like can be had for less than $10 apiece. Far less than $10, in some cases, even when you include shipping. I'll have more CDs to listen to on my drive to and from work, thus making me happier and more relaxed, and therefore more healthy.

So, by extension, if you choose not to click on any of the ads, it's entirely accurate to say you're killing me.

Shame on you. Get out there and click on those ads and clear your conscience immediately. You're welcome.

My daughter is 23, and there's almost nothing interesting about that age

The following post ran on this blog on March 23, 2016. I bring it back to honor the fact that my oldest child, Elissa, turns 23 today. Go ahead and, uh, celebrate, Lis! You've earned it!

At what point do your birthdays suddenly become a lot less exciting?

I think it's when you turn 23. And I'll tell you why:

Every birthday you have from 1 to 20 is exciting because you're a kid, and kids get excited about their birthdays for various reasons (even 20-year-old kids). That's a given.

Then you turn 21 and that's cool because ADULTHOOD. Self-explanatory.

Twenty-two is also pretty good, especially for college kids, because it's generally the age when you graduate with your bachelor's degree. Life is about to begin in earnest and you can feel it.

And then you turn 23 and...well, nothing. You're either in grad school or out working. And 23 is just a really, really nondescript age. There's nothing vaguely interesting or special about it. It's even a prime number, for gosh sakes.

Twenty-three just kind of sits there. And I think for many people, it's the first nearly meaningless birthday they experience.

All of which is to mention that my daughter Elissa turns 22 tomorrow, and she's on track to graduate from college sometime this year, so there's that. It is perhaps her last exciting birthday, and I don't even know if she's excited about it because I don't see her very much. I'll have to ask her.

Every Elissa birthday makes me reflect on the passage of time because she's our oldest and therefore is always the first among our kids to turn a given age. I suppose the next time her birthday will really, really affect me will be when she turns 30 because...well, by then, there will be no denying the fact that we her parents are old. You can't have a 30-year-old and be a true young'un.

So until then, I'm going to hold on for dear life to her 20-something birthdays. Even the boring ones.