At Heathrow, a 300-foot long red carpet is stretched out to Air
Force One and President Bush strides to a warm but dignified
handshake from Queen Elizabeth II.
They ride in a silver 1934 Bentley limousine to the edge of
central London where they board an open 17th century coach
hitched to six magnificent white matching horses.
They ride toward Buckingham Palace, each looking sideways and
waving to the thousands of cheering Britons lining the streets,
all is going well.
But suddenly the right rear horse lets fly with the most
horrendous, earth-rending, eye-smarting blast of gastronomic
flatulence ever heard in the British Empire, including Bermuda,
Tortola and the Falkland Islands. It shakes the coach.
Uncomfortable, but under control, the two dignitaries of state do
their best to ignore the whole incident, but then the Queen
decides that's ridiculous. She turns to Mr. Bush and explains,
"Mr. President, please accept my regrets. I'm sure you understand
that there are some things that even a Queen cannot control."
George W. Bush, ever the gentleman, replies, "Your Majesty,
please don't give the matter another thought. You know, if you
hadn't said something, I would have thought it was one of the
horses...."
A philosophy professor stood before his class and had some items
in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly he picked up a
large empty jam jar and proceeded to fill it with rocks, rocks
about 2" in diameter. He then asked the students if the jam jar
was full? They agreed that it was.
So the professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them
into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles, of course,
rolled into the open areas between the rocks. He then asked the
students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was. The
students laughed.
The professor picked up a box of sand and poured it into the
jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else.
"Now," said the professor, "I want you to recognize that this is
your life. The rocks are the important things - your family, your
partner, your health, your children - things that if everything
else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be
full. The pebbles are the other things that matter like your
job, your house, your car. The sand is everything else. The small
stuff."
"If you put the sand into the jar first, there is no room for
the pebbles or the rocks. The same goes for your life. If you
spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never
have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention
to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your
children. Take time to get medical check-ups. Take your partner
out dancing. There will always be time to go to work, clean the
house, give a dinner party and fix the disposal." Take care of
the rocks first - the things that really matter. Set your
priorities. The rest is just sand."
But then... A student then took the jar which the other students
and the professor agreed was full, and proceeded to pour in a
glass of beer. Of course the beer filled the remaining spaces
within the jar making the jar truly full.
The moral of this tale is: that no matter how full your life is,
there is always room for a BEER.
The Hospital Bill
A man was brought to Mercy Hospital, and taken quickly in for coronary surgery. The operation went well and, as the
groggy man regained consciousness, he was reassured by a
Sister of Mercy, who was waiting by his bed.
"Mr. Smith, you're going to be just fine," said the nun,
gently patting his hand. "We do need to know, however,
how you intend to pay for your stay here. Are you covered
by insurance?"
"No, I'm not," the man whispered hoarsely.
"Can you pay in cash?" persisted the nun.
"I'm afraid I cannot, Sister."
"Well, do you have any close relatives?" the nun essayed.
"Just my sister in New Mexico," he volunteered. "But
she's a humble spinster nun."
"Oh, I must correct you, Mr. Smith. Nuns are not
'spinsters;' they are married to God."
"Wonderful," said Smith. "In that case, please send the
bill to my brother-in-law."
in those days...
The Washington Post had a contest wherein participants were asked to tell the younger generation how much harder they had it "in the old days." Winners, runners-up, and honorable mentions are listed below. Second Runner-Up:
In my day, we couldn't afford shoes, so we went barefoot.
In winter, we had to wrap our feet with barbed wire for traction.
First Runner-Up:
In my day, we didn't have MTV or in-line skates, or any of
that stuff. No, it was 45s and regular old metal-wheeled
roller skates, and the 45s always skipped, so to get them
to play right you'd weigh the needle down with something
like quarters, which we never had because our allowances
were way too small, so we'd use our skate keys instead and
end up forgetting they were taped to the record player arm
so that we couldn't adjust our skates, which didn't really
matter because those crummy metal wheels would kill you if
you hit a pebble anyway, and in those days roads had real
pebbles on them, not like today.
And the winner:
In my day, we didn't have rocks. We had to go down to the
creek and wash our clothes by beating them with our heads.
Honorable Mentions:
In my day, we didn't have fancy health-food restaurants.
Every day we ate lots of easily recognizable animal parts,
along with potatoes.
In my day, we didn't have hand-held calculators. We had to
do addition on our fingers. To subtract, we had to have some
fingers amputated.
In my day, we didn't get that disembodied, slightly ticked-
off voice saying 'Doors closing.' We got on the train, the
doors closed, and if your hand was sticking out, it scraped
along the tunnel all the way to the next station and it was
a bloody stump at the end. But the base fare was only a
dollar.
While driving in Pennsylvania
a family followed an Amish carriage. The owner of the carriage obviously had a sense of humor, because attached to the back of the carriage was a hand painted sign:
"Energy efficient vehicle. Runs on oats and grass. Caution: Do not step on exhaust."
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