A WORD FROM GOD:

Hi. God here. How ya doin?

As you read this, the soldiers and zealots and just plain busybodies in Afghanistan are running around smashing up every statue they can find. We're talking rare antiquities and big stone Buddha's and lawn gnomes and plaster-of-Paris bullfighters and pink flamingoes. The works.

And why? The religious leaders in Afghanistan have decided that GOD WANTS EVERY STATUE BROKE!

Well, excuse Me, but NO I DON'T. NOT EVEN THE LAWN GNOMES.

Why is it that every time I turn around, some so-called religious leader is shaking the Bible or Koran and saying that I, God, want everyone to "stone the adulteress" or "burn the witch" or "send money to build the Happy Jesus Theme Park" or, in this case, bust up statues?

Let's get something straight here. First of all, that Bible or Koran that they're shaking around? Heavily padded. Sure I told the prophets to write some of those things down. The good-advice parts, like bathe, and lift with your knees, and be nice to each other, and don't do roof work when you're drunk. But for every thing I asked a prophet to write down, he'd add about a hundred things of his own, stuff about when his neighbors should be smote and why his wife should do everything he said and so on.

A lot of those prophets were thwarted writers as well, and saw the Bible and Koran as a way of getting their potboilers published. All that begatting, and the swooping seraphim and wailing-and-gnashing-of-teeth business? All theirs. I was never really pushing for a Holy Book. I was thinking more Sensible Pamphlet.

The Ten Commandments, for instance -- what I originally dictated were The Four Suggestions. But then those prophets got hold of them and decided they'd punch them up and use them to spook their kids.

You know what I really want? I want a world where Friends isn't on 42 times a freaking day. I want rap and hip-hop artists to stop thanking me at their goddam award ceremonies. I HATE that music. Gimme Marvin Gaye, gimme some zydeco, gimme Bach. Here's a news flash for you, rappers and hip-hopsters, you're all going to Hell! So stop implicating me every time you get an award.

And all those Aerosmith guys are going to hell too. Oh, and Christine Aguilera? Hell city, baby! Wacky morning DJs, the programmers at FOX, Elizabeth Hurley -- HELL, HELL, HELL!

Anyhow, I'm getting off on a rant here. But I want to let you in on something. All of those geezers who claw their way to the top of the religion heap and start pronouncing God wants this and God wants that 
-- extremely small penises. Tiny! Think about that the next time somebody starts shaking his Holy Book at you.

And leave the statues alone.

Nate The Snake 

A truck driver is heading west across the Arizona desert. He has been driving all night, and as the sun starts to rise, he feels the need to stop and commune with nature. He pulls to the side of the road, parks, and walks out into the sage brush.

As he is standing there, looking around at the beauty of the early morn, he notices a lever sticking out of the ground.
After a few moments, he walks over, walks all the way around, and then reaches out to grasp the lever. Just as he does, he hears a voice say, "Don't touch that lever."

The driver jumps about two feet off the ground, and as he comes down, he looks around. No one is to be seen. Thinking it was just his imagination, he again reaches for the lever. Again the voice yells, "I said don't touch that lever!"

Being more prepared, the driver senses the location of the voice and looks down under a sage brush. There he sees a small snake.

The driver, in much astonishment, said, "Was that you that just spoke?"

The snake said, "Yes. I have to keep people from touching that lever. If the lever is moved, it will be the end of the world."

The driver, still rather astonished, said, "What is your name?
And will you talk on TV?" The snake said his name was Nate and that he wasn't interested in going on TV; anyway, he had to stay and watch the lever to see that it wasn't moved.

The driver said, "Look, I will get the networks to send out camera crews. That way, you can inform the entire world about the danger of the lever."

Nate thought that over and allowed as how there was a great deal of sense to the idea. The driver, true to his word, got the network camera crews out. They put on broadcasts in which Nate warned the entire world of the dangers of moving the lever.

A few weeks later, another truck driver was going through the area. He was following an oil tanker, and the tanker sprang a leak. When the driver's truck hit the slick, it went out of control, and he found himself headed straight for the lever. He remembered seeing Nate on the TV telling about the lever and so he knew that if he hit it, he would cause the world to end. He strove, with all his might to maneuver the truck. Finally, at the last possible moment, he was able to swerve, but he ran over Nate, the snake, and killed him flat.

The truck driver was elated that he had missed the lever, but sad that he killed Nate. Philosophically he mused, "Well, better Nate than lever."

A burglar broke into the house of a Quaker in the middle of the night and started to rob it. The Quaker heard the noise and went downstairs with his shotgun.

When he found the burglar he pointed his gun at him and said, most gently, "Friend, I mean thee no harm, but thou standest where I am about to shoot!"

A young engaged couple were getting some prenuptial counseling from their Rabbi. The guy asked, "Is it okay to have sex before the wedding?"

The Rabbi replied, "Not if it delays the ceremony."

France Travel Advisory

By Bill Bryson

"The following advisory for American travelers heading for France was compiled from information provided by the U.S. State Department, the Central Intelligence Agency, the U.S. Chamber of Commerce, the Food and Drug Administration, the Centers for Disease Control and some very expensive spy satellites that the French don't know about. It is intended as a guide for American travelers only. No guarantee of accuracy is ensured or intended. 

"General Overview: France is a medium-sized foreign country situated in the continent of Europe. It is an important member of the world community, though not nearly as important as it thinks. It is bounded by Germany, Spain, Switzerland and some smaller nations of no particular consequence and with not very good shopping. 

"France is a very old country with many treasures, such as the Louvre and Euro-Disney. Among its contributions to western civilization are champagne, Camembert cheese and the guillotine. Although France likes to think of itself as a modern nation, air conditioning is little used, and it is next to impossible to get decent Mexican food. One continuing exasperation for American visitors is that the people willfully persist in speaking French, though many will speak English if shouted at. As in any foreign country, watch your change at all times. 

"The People: France has a population of 54 million people, most of whom drink and smoke a great deal, drive like lunatics, are dangerously oversexed and have no concept of standing patiently in line. The French people are in general gloomy, temperamental, proud, arrogant, aloof and undisciplined--and those are their good points. Most French citizens are Roman Catholic, though you would hardly guess it from their behavior. Many people are communists, and topless sunbathing is common. Men sometimes have girls' names like Marie, and they kiss each other when they hand out medals. 

"American travelers are advised to travel in groups and to wear baseball caps and colorful trousers for easier mutual recognition. 

"Safety: In general, France is a safe destination, though travelers are advised that, from time to time, it is invaded by Germany. By tradition, the French surrender more or less at once and, apart from a temporary shortage of Scotch whiskey and increased difficulty in getting baseball scores and stock market prices, life for the visitor generally goes on much as before. A tunnel connecting France to Britain beneath the English Channel has been opened in recent years to make it easier for the government to flee to London. 

"History: France was discovered by Charlemagne in the Dark Ages. Other important historical figures are Louis XIV, the Huguenots, Joan of Arc, Jacques Cousteau and Charles de Gaulle, who was president for many years and is now an airport. 

"Government: The French form of government is democratic but noisy. Elections are held more or less continuously and always result in a runoff. For administrative purposes, the country is divided into regions, departments, districts, municipalities, cantons, communes, villages, cafes, booths and floor tiles. 

"Parliament consists of two chambers, the Upper and Lower (though, confusingly, they are both on the ground floor), whose members are either Gaullists or communists, neither of whom are to be trusted, frankly. Parliament's principal preoccupations are setting off atomic bombs in the South Pacific and acting indignant when anyone complains. 

"According to the most current State Department intelligence, the president now is someone named Jacques. 
Further information is not available at this time. 

"Culture: The French pride themselves on their culture, though it is not easy to see why. All their songs sound the same, and they have hardly ever made a movie that you would want to watch for anything but the nude scenes. 
And nothing, of course, is more boring than a French novel (except, perhaps, an evening with a French family). 

"Cuisine: Let's face it, no matter how much garlic you put on it, a snail is just a slug with a shell on its back. 
Croissants, on the other hand, are excellent, though it is impossible for most Americans to pronounce this word. In general, travelers are advised to stick to cheeseburgers at leading hotels such as Sheraton and Holiday Inn. 

"Economy: France has a large and diversified economy, second only to Germany's in Europe, which is surprising because people hardly work at all. If they are not spending four hours dawdling over lunch, they are on strike and blocking the roads with their lorries and tractors. France's principal exports, in order of importance to the economy, are wine, nuclear weapons, perfume, guided missiles, champagne, high-caliber weaponry, grenade launchers, land mines, tanks, attack aircraft, miscellaneous armaments and cheese. 

"Public Holidays: France has more holidays than any other nation in the world. Among its 361 national holidays are 197 saints' days, 37 National Liberation Days, 16 Declaration of Republic Days, 54 Return of Charles de Gaulle in Triumph as if He Won the War Single-Handed Days, 18 Napoleon Sent into Exile Days, 17 Napoleon Called Back from Exile Days and 112 France Is Great and the Rest of the World Is Rubbish Days. Other important holidays are National Nuclear Bomb Day (January 12), the Feast of Ste. Brigitte Bardot Day (March 1) and National Guillotine Day (November 12). 

"Conclusion: France enjoys a rich history, a picturesque and varied landscape, and a temperate climate. In short, it would be a very nice country if it weren't inhabited by French people. The best thing that can be said for it is that it is not Germany. 

"A Word of Warning: The consular services of the United States government are intended solely for the promotion of the interests of American businesses such as McDonald's, Pizza Hut and the Coca-Cola Corporation. In the event that you are the victim of a crime or serious injury involving at least the loss of a limb, report to the American Embassy between the hours of 5:l5 a.m. and 5:20 a.m. on a Tuesday or Wednesday, and a consular official who is supremely indifferent to your plight will give you a list of qualified dentists or something similarly useless. Remember, no one ordered you to go abroad. Personally, we always take our holidays at Miami Beach, and you are advised to as well. 

"Thank you and good luck." 

From The Washington Post's Painfully Bad Analogies contest:
(I love these things...)

--He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.
(Brian Broadus, Charlottesville)

--The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.
(Malcolm Fleschner, Arlington)

--She grew on him like she was a colony of E. coli and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.
(Brian Broadus, Charlottesville)

--Even in his last years, grandpappy had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.
(Sandra Hull, Arlington)

--The door had been forced, as forced as the dialogue during the interview portion of Jeopardy!
(Jean Sorensen, Herndon)

--Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do
 (Jerry Pannullo, Kensington)

--The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.
(Malcolm Fleschner, Arlington)

--He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame. Maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.
(John Kammer, Herndon)

--Her artistic sense was exquisitely refined, like someone who can tell butter from I Can't Believe It's Not Butter.
(Barbara Collier, Garrett Park)

--She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.
(Susan Reese, Arlington)

--The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife's infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM.
(Paul J. Kocak, Syracuse)

--It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

--The dandelion swayed in the gentle breeze like an oscillating electric fan set on medium.
(Ralph Scott, Washington)

--He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up.

(Susan Reese, Arlington)

--Her eyes were like limpid pools, only they had forgotten to put in any pH cleanser.
(Chuck Smith, Woodbridge)

--She walked into my office like a centipede with 98 missing legs.
(Jonathan Paul, Garrett Park)

--It hurt the way your tongue hurts after you accidentally staple it to the wall.
 (Brian Broadus, Charlottesville)

--Her voice had that tense, grating quality, like a first-generation thermal paper fax machine that needed a band tightened.
 (Sue Lin Chong, Washington)


--A branch fell from the tree like a trunk falling off an elephant.
 (Jonathan Paul, Garrett Park)

--Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two other sides gently compressed by a ThighMaster. 
 (Sue Lin Chong, Washington)

"Electricity originates inside clouds. There, it forms into lightning, which is attracted to the Earth by golfers. After entering the ground, the electricity hardens into coal, which, when dug up by power companies and burned in big ovens called 'generators,' turns back into electricity ... where it is transformed by TV sets into commercials for beer, which passes through the consumers and back into the ground, thus completing what is known as a 'circuit.'"- Dave Barry 

An 18th-century vagabond in England, exhausted and famished, came to a roadside Inn with a sign reading: "George and the Dragon." He knocked. The Innkeeper's wife stuck her head out a window. "Could ye spare some victuals?" The woman glanced at his shabby, dirty clothes. "No!" she shouted. "Could I have a pint of ale?" "No!" she shouted. "Could I at least use your privy?" "No!" she shouted again. The vagabond said, "Might I please...?" "What now?" the woman screeched, not allowing him to finish. "D'ye suppose," he asked, "that I might have a word with George?"

At one Army base, the annual trip to the rifle range had been canceled for the second year in a row, but the semi-annual physical fitness test was still on as planned.

One soldier mused, "Does it bother anyone else that the Army doesn't seem to care how well we can shoot, but they are extremely interested in how fast we can run?"

TEN COMMANDMENTS FOR STRESS REDUCTION 

I. Thou shalt not be perfect, or even try to be.

II. Thou shalt not try to be all things to all people.

III. Thou shalt sometimes leave things undone.

IV. Thou shalt not spread thyself too thin.

V. Thou shalt learn to say "no".

VI. Thou shalt schedule time for thyself and for thy support network.

VII. Thou shalt switch thyself off, and do nothing regularly.

VIII. Thou shalt not even feel guilty for doing nothing, or saying no.

IX. Thou shalt be boring, untidy, inelegant, and unattractive at times.

X. Especially, thou shalt not be thine own worst enemy. But, be thine own best friend.

A man is in court for murder and the judge says "You are charged with beating your wife to death with a hammer."

Then a voice at the back of the court says, "You bastard!"

Then the judge continues, "you are also charged with beating your daughter to death with a hammer."

Again the voice at the back of the court says, "You bastard!"

The judge says, "Now, we cannot have any more of these outbursts from you or I shall charge you with contempt of court. Now, what is the problem?"

The man at the back of the court replies, "Fifteen years I lived next door to that bastard, and every time I asked to borrow a hammer he said he never had one!"

Things we should have known earlier

A person needs only two tools. WD-40 and duct tape.
If it doesn't move and it should, use WD-40.
If it moves and shouldn't, use the tape.

Any and all compliments can be handled by simply saying "Thank you" though it helps if you say it with a Southern accent.

Some people are working backstage, some are playing in the orchestra, some are on-stage singing, some are in the audience as critics, some are there to applaud. Know who and where you are.

Never give yourself a haircut after three margaritas.

When baking, follow directions. When cooking, go by your own taste.

Never continue dating anyone who is rude to the waiter.

Good sex should involve laughter. Because it's, you know, funny.

If you tell a lie, don't believe it deceives only the other person.

The five most essential words for a healthy, vital relationship: "I apologize" and "You are right".

Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.

When you make a mistake, make amends immediately.
It's easier to eat crow while it's still warm.

If he says that you are too good for him--believe it.

I've learned to pick my battles; I ask myself, Will this matter one year from now? How about one month?
One week? One day?

Never pass up an opportunity to pee.

If you woke up breathing, congratulations! You have another chance!

Living well really is the best revenge.

Being miserable because of a bad or former relationship just proves that the other person was right about you.

Be really nice to your friends because you never know when you are going to need them to empty your bed pan and hold your hand.

Work is good but it's not important.

Never underestimate the kindness of your fellow man.

You are the only person who can truly make you happy.

And finally.. Being happy doesn't mean everything's perfect, it just means you've decided to see beyond the imperfections.

THE NEW GM HELPLINE

Fence Post Turtle

While suturing a laceration on the hand of a 90 year old man (who got his hand caught in a gate while working his dairy cattle) my friend the doctor and the old man were discussing George W.  Bush's health care reform ideas.

The old man said, "Well, ‘ya know, ‘W’ is just another fence post turtle."

So, not knowing what he meant, my friend the doctor asked him, “What’s a fence post turtle?"

His patient, the old man, replied, “Well, when you're driving down a country road, and you come across a fence post with a turtle balanced on top, that's a fence post turtle.  You know he didn't get there by himself, he surely doesn't belong there, he certainly can't get anything done while he's up there, and you just want to help the poor thing down.  George W.  Bush is a fence post turtle."

Anyway, I thought I'd post this pareil tale of bridled passion.

How I met my wife
by Jack Winter
Published 25 July 1994 - The New Yorker

It had been a rough day, so when I walked into the party I was very chalant, despite my efforts to appear gruntled and consolate.

I was furling my wieldy umbrella for the coat check when I saw her standing alone in a corner. She was a descript person, a woman in a state of total array. Her hair was kempt, her clothing shevelled, and she moved in a gainly way.

I wanted desperately to meet her, but I knew I'd have to make bones about it since I was travelling cognito. Beknownst to me, the hostess, whom I could see both hide and hair of, was very proper, so it would be skin off my nose if anything bad happened. And even though I had only swerving loyalty to her, my manners couldn't be peccable. Only toward and heard-of behavior would do.

Fortunately, the embarrassment that my maculate appearance might cause was evitable. There were two ways about it, but the chances that someone as flappable as I would be ept enough to become persona grata or a sung hero were slim. I was, after all, something to sneeze at, someone you could easily hold a candle to, someone who usually aroused bridled passion.

So I decided not to risk it. But then, all at once, for some apparent reason, she looked in my direction and smiled in a way that I could make heads and tails of.

I was plussed. It was concerting to see that she was communicado, and it nerved me that she was interested in a pareil like me, sight seen. Normally, I had a domitable spirit, but, being corrigible, I felt capacitated -- as if this were something I was great shakes at -- and forgot that I had succeeded in situations like this only a told number of times. So, after a terminable delay, I acted with mitigated gall and made my way through the ruly crowd with strong givings.

Nevertheless, since this was all new hat to me and I had no time to prepare a promptu speech, I was petuous. Wanting to make only called-for remarks, I started talking about the hors d'oeuvres, trying to abuse her of the notion that I was sipid, and perhaps even bunk a few myths about myself.

She responded well, and I was mayed that she considered me a savory character who was up to some good. She told me who she was. "What a perfect nomer," I said, advertently. The conversation become more and more choate, and we spoke at length to much avail. But I was defatigable, so I had to leave at a godly hour. I asked if she wanted to come with me. To my delight, she was committal. We left the party together and have been together ever since. I have given her my love, and she has requited it.

Chicken Soup for the Beer Drinker 

Sometimes when I reflect back on all the beer I drink I feel ashamed. Then I look into the glass and think about the workers in the brewery and all of their hopes and dreams. 

If I didn't drink this beer, they might be out of work and their dreams would be shattered. Then I say to myself, "It is better that I drink this beer and let their dreams come true than be selfish and worry about my liver.

Jack Handy 


An intelligent man is sometimes forced to be drunk to spend time with his fools. 

Ernest Hemingway 

Beer is proof that God loves us and wants us to be happy. 

Benjamin Franklin 

Without question, the greatest invention in the history of mankind is beer. Oh, I grant you that the wheel was also a fine invention, but the wheel does not go nearly as well with pizza. --Dave Barry 

Beer: Helping ugly people have sex since 1862!


Remember "I" before "E," except in Budweiser.

Beer is made by fermentation caused by bacteria feeding on yeast cells and then defecating.
In other words, it's a nice tall glass of bacteria shit.


To some its a six-pack, to me it's a Support Group 

1/1/1

Blue-haired old aunts used to come up to me at weddings, poking me in the ribs and cackling, telling me, "You're next!"

They stopped after I started doing the same thing to them at funerals.

Contributed by: Rosanne

12/31/00

But First

Just wanted to let you know that I have recently been diagnosed with a very serious condition and there's no hope I will ever recover. The scientific world is frantically searching for a cure......... This is an ailment many of us suffer from and may not as yet have been diagnosed, however now you may be able to discuss it with your loved ones and try to explain what really happened to you all those times you tried so hard to accomplish something and didn't.

I call it the "But First Syndrome." You know, it's when I decide to do the laundry, I start down the hall and notice the newspaper on the table. OK, I'm going to do the laundry....

BUT FIRST I'm going to read the newspaper. After that, I notice the mail on the table. OK, I'll just put the newspaper in the recycle stack..

BUT FIRST I'll look through that pile of mail and see if there are any bills to be paid. Yes, now where's the checkbook?
Oops......there's the empty glass from yesterday on the coffee table. I'm going to look for that checkbook, ...

BUT FIRST I need to put the glass in the sink. I head for the kitchen, look out the window, notice my poor flowers need a drink of water. I put the glass in the sink, and darn it, there's the remote for the TV on the kitchen counter. What's it doing here? I'll just put it away.....

BUT FIRST I need to water those plants.

Head for door and........Aaaagh! Stepped on the cat. Cat needs to be fed. Okay, I'll put that remote away and water the plants..... 

BUT FIRST I need to feed the cat......

End of day: Laundry is not done, newspapers are still on the floor, glass is still in the sink, bills are unpaid, checkbook is still lost, and the cat ate the remote control ........
And, when I try to figure out how come nothing got done all day, I'm baffled because ..... I KNOW I was BUSY ALL DAY!!
I realize this condition is serious...........and I'd get help!.........
BUT FIRST.............. I think.... I'll check my email!

The last ten or twelve years of my telephone company career were spent in cubicles of one sort or another, we named them things like; “The OK Corral”, next to that was “The Not So Ok Corral” A couple guys named John named theirs “Andy Gump” they even appropriated a sign off one of Andy’s fiberglass conveniences... but the names below are really creative. The sign on mine said “The Buck stops over there someplace” 

The Top 14 Alternative Terms for "Cubicle"

14)        Soul-Sucking Pod o' Death

13)        Tomb of the Unknown Bureaucrat

12)        Slack-In-The-Box

11)        Headquarters, Jodie Foster Fan Club

10)        Peon Palazzo

9)         Yuppie Terrarium

8)         The SnackFooda Triangle

7)         English Majors Entry Point

6)         Luxury Manhattan Apartment

5)         Picasso's Folly

4)         International Porn Downloading Headquarters

3)         Fortress of Servitude

2)         Casa de Livin' La Vida Veal

 And the Number 1 Alternate Term for "Cubicle"...

 1)         Wraparound Turbo Demoralizer 2000

A friend sent me this list of;

"THINGS I HAVE LEARNED FROM KIDS"

Though it appears to be a pretty comprehensive list, I felt compelled to spend a few minutes appending it. If you have read this before just scroll to the end of the "Red"\

THINGS I HAVE LEARNED FROM KIDS

Brake fluid mixed with Clorox makes smoke, and lots of it.

A six year old can start a fire with a flint rock even though a 40 year old man says they can only do it in the movies.

If you spray hair spray on dust bunnies and run over them with roller blades, they can ignite.

A 4 year-old's voice is louder than 200 adults in a crowded restaurant.

If you hook a dog leash over a ceiling fan the motor is not strong enough to rotate a 42 pound boy wearing a superman cape.

It is strong enough however to spread paint on all four walls of a 20 by 20 foot room.

Baseballs make marks on ceilings.

You should not throw baseballs up when the ceiling fan is on.

When using the ceiling fan as a bat you have to throw the ball up a few times before you get a hit.

A ceiling fan can hit a baseball a long way.

The glass in windows (even double pane) doesn't stop a baseball hit by a ceiling fan.

A magnifying glass can start a fire even on an overcast day.

If you use a waterbed as home plate while wearing baseball shoes it does not leak-it explodes. A king size waterbed holds enough water to fill a 2000 square foot house 4 inches deep.

Lego's will pass through the digestive tract of a four year old. Duplo's will not.

Play Dough and Microwave should never be used in the same sentence.

Super glue is forever.

McGyver can teach us many things we don't want to know. Ditto Tarzan.

No matter how much Jell-O you put in a swimming pool you still can't walk on water.

Pool filters do not like Jell-O.

VCR's do not eject PB&J sandwiches even though TV commercials show they do.

Garbage bags do not make good parachutes.

Marbles in gas tanks make lots of noise when driving.

Always look in the oven before you turn it on.

Plastic toys do not like ovens.

The fire department in San Diego has at least a 5 minute response time.

The spin cycle on the washing machine does not make earth worms dizzy. It will however make cats dizzy. Cats throw up twice their body weight when dizzy.

Quiet does not necessarily mean don't worry.

A good sense of humor will get you through most problems in life (unfortunately, mostly in retrospect).

From my own personal experience.

Only bad things happen in threes...i.e. Broken windows, visits to the hospital ...etc.

Washable markers, aren't.

A broom handle when used properly (Like a battering ram) can be put through walls and doors by 2 five year olds.

A 7 year old boy is heavy enough to go through the roof of a shed if he jumps from high enough, like, say, the roof of the house.

Quiet at night is a good thing, quiet during the daytime is ominous.

Always investigate the sound of hammering.

Always investigate the sound of running water.

A 6 year old has no concept of what "Don't put too much water in the tub" means.

A tub will fill to overflowing faster than you can say to yourself; "Hasn't the water been running an awful long time?".

A hamster can survive without food and water for an amazingly long time.

A hamster can not survive indefinitely without food and water.

Pigeons will fly away, no matter how much you think they love you.

A dead snake in the sock drawer will make it's presence known within three days.

Whatever a teacher is perceived to have said by a 5 - 9 year old is gospel until corrected by that teacher.

Macintosh computers are "Almost" child proof, IBM Compatible PC's are not.

Never let a child see the Fruit Loops (Or any other Kiddy Cereal) before dinner.

Never let a child see that air can be let OUT of tires.

Never let a child with a garden hose anywhere near your car's gas tank.

200 nails can be nailed into the roof of your shed in an amazingly short period of time.

It is best to leave 200 nails in the roof of your shed because you will create more damage removing them.

A seven-year-old boy will fit in a drier.

A seven-year-old boy can not get out of a drier by himself.

I wish I had time to think of more....

It’s getting harder and harder to find things on the net that I haven’t seen

 I wish there was a knob on the TV to turn up the intelligence.

There's one called brightness, but it doesn't work.

______________________________________

Old Irish Blessing

May those that love us, love us.

And those that don't love us,

May God turn their hearts.

And if He doesn't turn their hearts,

May He turn their ankles

So we will know them by their limping.

I had seen this long ago and forgotten about it… Thanks Jeri

 EVERY WOMAN SHOULD HAVE...

 ...One old love she can imagine going back to ...  and one who reminds her how far she has come.

...Enough money within her control to move out and rent a place of her own ...  even if she never wants to and needs to.

...Something perfect to wear if the employer or date of her dreams wants to see her in an hour.

...A youth she's content to leave behind.

...A past juicy enough that she's looking forward to retelling it in her old age.

...The realization that she is actually going to have an old age and some money set aside to fund it.

...A set of screwdrivers, a cordless drill, and a black lace bra.

...One friend who always makes her laugh ...  and one who lets her cry.

...A good piece of furniture not previously owned by anyone else in her family.

...Eight matching plates, wine glasses with stems, and a recipe for a meal that will make her guests feel honored.

...A resume that is not even slightest bit padded.

...A feeling of control over her destiny.

EVERY WOMAN SHOULD KNOW...

...How to fall in love without losing herself.

...How to quit a job, break up with a lover, and confront a friend without ruining the friendship.

...When to try harder ...  and when to walk away.

...How to have a good time at a party she'd never choose to attend.

...How to ask for what she wants in a way that makes it most likely she'll get it.

...That she can't change the length of her calves, the width of her hips, or the nature of her parents.

...That her childhood may not have been perfect ...  but its over.

...What she would and wouldn't do for love or more.

...How to live alone ...  even if she doesn't like it.

...Whom she can trust, whom she can't, and why she shouldn't take it personally.

.  Where to go ...  be it to her best friend's kitchen table ...  or a charming inn in the woods ...  when her soul needs soothing.

...What she can and can't  accomplish in a day... a month ... and a year.

Another Cameron Column, I know a lot of you get this directly but it was so exact a reenactment of a recent episode here that I need to take advantage of it…

 Laundry Crisis

Copyright 2000 W. Bruce Cameron

http://www.wbrucecameron.com/

==> Please do not remove this copyright it is a legal notice <==

As usual, I'm the one who was blamed for the recent family crisis, even though, as readers of this column well know, I am a sensitive and humble husband who is right pretty much 100 percent of the time.

 I do admit that when it comes to the system that runs the laundry at the Cameron house, I have been a tad...oblivious.  By "system" I mean, of course, my wife, who takes care of washing clothes for the rest of us without complaint -- until recently, as you will soon see.

 My oldest daughter has never mastered the tricky mechanism required to open and shut her dresser drawers, with the result that her clean laundry winds up right where my wife has stacked it -- on the bed, where it tips onto the floor and mingles with the dirty clothes residing there.  "I have nothing to wear!"  she'll shriek every once in awhile, despite the fact that she is standing ankle deep in her entire wardrobe.  When I get tired of this ransacked condition and advise her she can't go to a friend's party until her room is cleaned up, ignoring her claim that "these are the most important people in my life I PROMISED I'd be there," she'll take care of the problem by gathering up everything and trucking it down to the laundry room, even if my wife just washed it that very day.

 For my youngest daughter, the issue is the competency of the laundress.  "I told you that this blouse has to be washed separately," she'll scold. "You're supposed to soak it in rain water and then dry it with cotton balls!"  Apparently everything she owns was hand-sewn by movie stars out of butterfly silk, and my wife is constantly "ruining" things by not treating them with gentle cycles and soft murmurs.

 My son never gripes about clothes -- as far as he is concerned, the laundry area could be converted into a video game room.  He generally wears the same outfit until it becomes toxic; the EPA has been to our house twice to see if his clothing should be awarded Superfund status.  Often, peering at the condition of his attire, I realize he has more dirt on him than I have in my yard.  Cleaning his apparel causes the washing machine to make a grinding, gritty noise, as if sand has gotten into the bearings.

 Against all this, my complaint seems a pretty mild irritant:  I've begun noticing that whatever wash cycle she is employing, my wife is causing my pants to shrink around the waist.

 "You're shrinking them so bad, I can barely button them," I grumble.  "Look at this!"

 She regards me wearily.  "Those are new pants.  I haven't even washed them yet," she advises.

 "What's your point?"  I demand.  Sometimes she can't seem to stay focused.

 "Meaning, I couldn't have done anything to shrink them.  They came like that."

 "Defective trousers?" I sputter.  How much more am I supposed to endure?

 She pokes me lightly in the stomach.  "No, they're the right size," she claims.

 "So you did shrink them!" I accuse.

 Now, even though all I am doing is serving in my prosecutorial capacity as the man of the family, she completely over-reacts.  "You know what?  You're right.  I must not know what I am doing.  So from now on, everyone in the family has to wash their own clothes.  I am through doing laundry!"

 At first I believe this is a bluff.  Each of us have our family responsibilities, after all -- for her not to take care of the clothes would be like me no longer bothering to decide what we will watch on television.  But when, after a few days, it becomes apparent that she has no intention of calling off her unauthorized labor action, I summon the children for an emergency session of arguing over who should take over laundry duties.  We decide on a system based on blame and denial.  This leads to a minor disaster in which everyone's clothing somehow becomes pink, and a demand from my children:  How are you going to get Mom back in the laundry business?

 I don't know, but I suspect it will involve a lot of chocolate.

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

 For reprint permission, including web sites, please write me at Bruce@wbrucecameron.com

(I didn’t get permission, please don’t tell Bruce – Pete)

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*************

Got this from a Genealogy list I’m on…

 My father loved to tell those "I-had-it-so-rough-growing-up" stories.  And I'm not talking about that, "I-had-to-walk-ten- miles-through-snow-to-school" story.  No, that was for amateurs. My dad was raised in the Great Depression.  He had to carry ice on his back and sell it door-to-door in the dead of winter.  He made five cents a year and gladly shared it with 20 other families living together in a one-bathroom house.  And once a week they would go out and help people less fortunate than themselves, which to my mind were lepers and dead people.  I couldn't figure out who could be less fortunate than my father's family.  He had a story for everything.  If I complained about homework, I got this one: "When I was a boy, we couldn't afford books.  I had to go to the library and copy the entire encyclopedia by hand -- but we couldn't afford paper, so I had to scratch on the back of a sheet of ice and run home before it melted."

NO TIME TO HURRY 

Sent by Jeri P.

(She  sends me motivational stuff all the time, she probably thinks my spirits need lifting, she is probably right, this one struck home) 

Igor Stravinsky was a disciplined composer who adhered to a rigid work schedule, carefully laid out in advance. Every minute of the day was taken up by some specific task.

On one occasion, his publisher asked him to hurry the completion of a new work. "I'm sorry," the composer said. "I haven't time in my schedule to hurry."

Our time is valuable. Many people feel that their time is more valuable than their money. And many people realize that they simply do not have time to hurry. They know what is important and they want what precious little time they have to count.

Dr. Howard Hendricks, a family counselor, learned the importance of taking enough time. One evening he asked his grown son what were some of his fondest childhood memories. His son replied, "Dad, it was the night you fixed my bike."

Dr. Hendricks could not even remember the evening, so his son recalled it for him. Dr. Hendricks was a university professor at the time. His evenings were often filled with meetings, and one evening in particular, he was rushing home to change clothes for an after-dinner speech he was to give at the school. As he drove up the driveway, he saw his son sitting on the ground beside his bicycle, anxiously waiting for Dad to come home. The handlebars were crooked and the front wheel needed alignment.

For some strange and wonderful reason, the professor asked his wife to call the school and say he would be late. Then he spent the next half hour working with his son on the bike. And though he had forgotten the incident, years later his son still fondly recalled the evening his father took the time -- to spend some time -- as one of the best of his life.

Our time is precious. Do you really have time to hurry?

DND

Do you commonly find yourself calling your children by the wrong name, and feel like kicking yourself for spending so much time selecting just the right name for each child?

Do you find yourself saying to your child, "Sure, I know where you left your cookie." It's on the long white horizontal surface in the kitchen...you know, the one with the thing we cook with on one end and the thing we put stuff into keep it cold on the other end?
Um...there's a sink in it?"

Do you tell people on the phone that you'll be happy to take a message, just as soon as you find a "message-writing-down thingamabob?"

In fact, do all the nouns in your vocabulary, nouns which have been your friends and companions since you were two years old, suddenly become "thingies" when you are under pressure? You may be suffering from deficient noun disease.

Deficient noun disease, or DND, is a common affliction among mothers of small children (older children too). While not a dangerous illness, DND is an exasperating and frustrating one which increases in severity in direct proportion to the number of children in the household.

Common symptoms of DND include the following:
- Calling children by each other's names, forgetting the proper
names for common household objects, and casually referring to
other adults not as "John and Jane" but as "those people with
the pool who barbecue every Friday."
- The frequent use of the WRONG noun in a given situation, rather
like mild aphasia. Someone with this particular type of DND
might say, "Put your plate on the stove...I mean on the
counter...I mean ON THE TABLE!"
- A less common symptom displayed by some DND sufferers is an
ailment also referred to as the "Crossword" Syndrome. With this
particular type of DND-related illness, the affected person
might declare, "Oh, yes, I know her name. Let's see...it
starts with an "S", has five letters...."

DND, although virtually untreatable and incurable, can still be endured with a minimum of pain and embarrassment if the afflicted person makes use of coping mechanisms. One method of coping with the disease involves the clever use of nicknames, which can easily apply to any individual in the family, like "Dear" or "Sweetheart".
This method breaks down when the DND sufferer is faced with the necessity of differentiating between individuals, or when she is talking to several people at one time. In these situations, the use of group nicknames, or referring to everyone in the room as "Y'all", a common Southern coping mechanism, are recommended.

Another good way to conceal DND from your friends and family members is to develop the habit of pausing in your sentences when reaching a crucial noun. If the pause is long enough, the other individual will attempt to guess the noun for you, and you need only respond in the affirmative when the correct noun is reached.
Although this method may take time, it certainly adds suspense to an otherwise ordinary conversation.

The information available on DND is still patchy and incomplete, due to the unnecessary shame felt by many mothers who don't realize that this illness is widespread and quite common. Very few mothers are able to call their children by name, and it is difficult for them to believe that the time invested in picking out those names was, to put it bluntly, wasted.

When education has removed the stigma from the minds of all women, this disease might very well be shown to be the most common affliction in human history.

The cause of DND is not yet known. Some scientists believe that using a word over 100,000 times in the course of a lifetime may simply fade that word from long-term memory. Mothers simply reach the lifetime limit earlier because they must repeat themselves so often. Other scientists hold up the two-year old child as proof positive that the repetition of a word more than 100,000 times (in this case, the word Mommy) does not cause selective noun amnesia.

Although modern science may never be able to cure DND or discover what exactly causes it, we as mothers and fellow sufferers can still help one another to recognize the illness and learn to live in harmony with it. The next time you hear yourself shouting, "CLAUDIA-CODY-BETSY-LOGAN-JILL....YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE! GET IN HERE!" you can comfort yourself with the knowledge that mothers all over the world are doing the same thing.

[Thanks to Tammy Owens]

I have always loved this joke:

A businessman stops by a cafe for breakfast. After paying the tab, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a 3 cent tip. As he strides toward the door, his waitress muses, only half to herself: "You know, you can tell a lot about a man by the tip he leaves."

The man turns around angrily and says; "Oh, really? Tell me, what does my tip say?"

"Well, this penny tells me you're a thrifty man."

Barely able to conceal his pride, the man utters "Hmm, true enough."

"And this penny, it tells me you're a bachelor."

Surprised at her perception, he says, "Well, that's true, too."

"And the third penny tells me that your father was one, too."