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Daily Chuckle December 6th, 2007
Give Us This Day Our Daily Chuckle

This week, a
compendium of wit,
wisdom and neat stuff
you can tell at parties. Enjoy!

The Half-Wit

A man owned a small farm in Nebraska.

The Nebraska State Wage & Hour Department claimed he was not paying proper wages to his help and sent an agent out to interview him.

"I need a list of your employees and how much you pay them," demanded the agent.

"Well," replied the farmer, "there's my farm hand who's been with me for 3 years. I pay him $200 a week plus free room and board. The cook has been here for 18 months, and I pay her $150 per week plus free room and board. Then there's the half-wit who works about 18 hours every day and does about 90% of all the work around here. He makes about $10 per week, pays his own room and board, and I buy him a bottle of bourbon every Saturday night. He also sleeps with my wife occasionally."

"That's the guy I want to talk to --- the half-wit," says the agent.

"That would be me," replied the farmer.

Rising Costs

The maid wanted a pay increase. Madam was very upset about this and asked, "Now Maria, why do you want a pay increase?"
Maria: "Well Madam, there are 3 reasons why I want an increase."
"First, I iron better than you."

Madam: "Who said you iron better than me?"
Maria, "The Master said so."
Madam: "Oh"

Maria: "The second reason is that I am a better cook than you."
Madam: "Nonsense, who said you are a better cook than me?"
Maria: "The Master did."
Madam: "Oh."

Maria: "My third reason is that I am a better lover than you."
Madam: ( very upset now ) "Did the Master say that as well?"
Maria: "No Madam, the gardener did."

(SHE GOT THE PAY RAISE)

The White Lie Cake

Have you ever told a white lie? You are going to love this, especially those who bake for church events.

Alice Grayson was going to bake a cake for the Baptist Church Ladies' Group in Tuscaloosa, but forgot to do it until the last minute.

She remembered the morning of the bake sale and after rummaging through cabinets, found an angel food cake mix and quickly made it while drying her hair, dressing, and helping her son pack for Scout camp.

When Alice took the cake from the oven, the center had dropped flat and the cake was horribly disfigured. She thought, "Oh dear, there is not time to bake another cake." This cake was important to Alice because she did so want to fit in at her new church and in her new community of friends. So, being inventive, she looked around the house for something to build up the center of the cake.

Alice found it in the bathroom - a roll of toilet paper. She plunked it in and covered it with icing. Not only did the finished product look beautiful, it looked perfect.

Before she left the house to drop the cake by the church and head for work, Alice woke her daughter Amanda and gave her some money and specific instructions to be at the bake sale the moment it opened at 9:30 and to buy the cake and bring it home.

When Amanda arrived at the sale, she found the attractive, perfect cake had already been sold. She grabbed her cell phone and called her mom.

Alice was horrified - she was beside herself. Everyone would know! What would they think? She would be ostracized, talked about, and ridiculed! All night, Alice lay awake in bed thinking about people pointing fingers at her and talking about her behind her back.

The next day, Alice promised herself she would try not to think about the cake and would attend the fancy luncheon and bridal shower at the home of a fellow church member and just try to have a good time.

Alice did not want to attend because the hostess was a snob who more than once had looked down her nose at Alice because she was a single parent and not from the founding families of Tuscaloosa. But, having already RSVP'd, she couldn't think of a believable excuse to stay home.

The meal was elegant, the company was definitely upper crust old South and, to Alice's horror, the cake in question was presented for dessert! Alice felt the blood drain from her body when she saw the cake!

She started out of her chair to tell the hostess all about it, but before she could get to her feet, the Mayor's wife said, "What a beautiful cake!"

Alice still stunned, sat back in her chair when she heard the hostess (who was a prominent church member) say, "Thank you, I baked it myself."

Alice smiled and thought to herself, "God is good."

History, As She is Wrote
Perfecting the Davis
Family History

As many of you may know, I got hooked on genealogy back in the late 1980's. Wound up writing four separate books on four separate branches of my family. The only family I haven't finished writing about is the Davis family.

I've run into a bit of an obstacle.

I've located a great-great uncle, Pasquale Davis, and learned he was hanged for horse stealing and train robbery in Montana back in 1889.

The only known photograph of Pasquale shows him standing on the gallows. On the back of the picture is this inscription: 'Pasquale Davis; horse thief, sent to Montana Territorial Prison 1885, escaped 1887, robbed the Montana Flyer six times. Caught by Pinkerton detectives, convicted and hanged in 1889.'

I've decided that in order to protect the dignity and honor of the Davis name that I may need to adjust the prose just a bit. This is what I came up with:

"Pasquale Davis was a famous cowboy in the Montana Territory. His business empire grew to include acquisition of valuable equestrian assets and intimate dealings with the Montana railroad. Beginning in 1883, he devoted several years of his life to service at a government facility, finally taking leave to resume his dealings with the railroad. In 1887, he was a key player in a vital investigation run by the renowned Pinkerton Detective Agency. In 1889, Pasquale passed away during an important civic function held in his honor when the platform upon which he was standing collapsed."

The Gas Crisis Explained

A lot of folks can't understand how we came to have an oil shortage here in our country.

Well, there's a very simple answer.

Nobody bothered to check the oil.

We just didn't know we were getting low

The reason for that is purely geographical.

Our OIL is located in

Alaska

California

Coastal Florida

Coastal Louisiana

Kansas

Oklahoma

Pennsylvania
and
Texas

Our DIPSTICKS are located in
Washington, DC!

Any Questions?

Old Age, I decided, Is a Gift.

I am now, probably for the first time in my life, the person I have always wanted to be. Oh, not my body! I sometime despair over my body, the wrinkles, the baggy eyes, and the sagging butt. And often I am taken aback by that old person that lives in my mirror (who looks like my mother!), but I don't agonize over those things for long.

I would never trade my amazing friends, my wonderful life, my loving family for less gray hair or a flatter belly. As I've aged, I've become more kind to myself, and less critical of myself. I've become my own friend.

I don't chide myself for eating that extra cookie, or for not making my bed, or for buying that silly cement gecko that I didn't need, but looks so avante garde on my patio. I am entitled to a treat, to be messy, to be extravagant.

I have seen too many dear friends leave this world too soon; before they understood the great freedom that comes with aging.

Whose business is it if I choose to read or play on the computer until 4 AM and sleep until noon?

I will dance with myself to those wonderful tunes of the 60&70's, and if I, at the same time, wish to weep over a lost love ... I will.

I will walk the beach in a swim suit that is stretched over a bulging body, and will dive into the waves with abandon if I choose to, despite the pitying glances from the jet set. They, too, will get old.

I know I am sometimes forgetful. But there again, some of life is just as well forgotten. And I eventually remember the important things.

Sure, over the years my heart has been broken. How can your heart not break when you lose a loved one, or when a child suffers, or even when somebody's beloved pet gets hit by a car? But broken hearts are what give us strength and understanding and compassion. A heart never broken is pristine and sterile and will never know the joy of being imperfect.

I am so blessed to have lived long enough to have my hair turning gray, and to have my youthful laughs be forever etched into deep grooves on my face. So many have never laughed, and so many have died before their hair could turn silver.

As you get older, it is easier to be positive. You care less about what other people think. I don't question myself anymore. I've even earned the right to be wrong.

So, to answer your question, I like being old. It has set me free. I like the person I have become. I am not going to live forever, but while I am still here, I will not waste time lamenting what could have been, or worrying about what will be. And I shall eat dessert every single day. (If I feel like it)

 

 

 

 

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