Puns and Plays on Words for Educated Minds . . .

1. The roundest knight at King Arthur's round table was Sir Cumference. He acquired his size from too much pi.

2. I thought I saw an eye doctor on an Alaskan island, but it turned out to be an optical Aleutian.

3. She was only a whiskey maker, but he loved her still.

4. A rubber band pistol was confiscated from algebra class because it was a weapon of math disruption.

5. The butcher backed into the meat grinder and got a little behind in hiswork.

6. No matter how much you push the envelope, it'll still be stationery.

7. A dog gave birth to puppies near the road and was cited for littering.

8. A grenade thrown into a kitchen in France would result in Linoleum Blownapart.

9. Two silk worms had a race. They ended up in a tie.

10. Time flies like an arrow. Fruit flies like a banana.

11. A hole has been found in the nudist camp wall. The police are looking into it..

12. Atheism is a non-prophet organization.

13. Two hats were hanging on a hat rack in the hallway. One hat said to the other, 'You stay here; I'll go on ahead.'

14. I wondered why the baseball kept getting bigger. Then it hit me.

15. A sign on the lawn at a drug rehab center said: 'Keep off the Grass.'

16. A small boy swallowed some coins and was taken to a hospital. When his grandmother telephoned to ask how he was, a nurse said, 'No change yet.'

17. A chicken crossing the road is poultry in motion.

18. The short fortune-teller who escaped from prison was a small medium at-large.

19. The man who survived mustard gas and pepper spray is now a seasoned veteran.

20. A backward poet writes inverse.

21. In democracy it's your vote that counts. In feudalism it's your count that votes.

22. When cannibals ate a missionary, they got a taste of religion.

23. Don't join dangerous cults: Practice safe sects.

For What I'm Thankful . . .

(This is a reprise from Early September. Seems to fit better here just before Thanksgiving)

The Sun, good health, the husband, the wife, the kids, the grandkids, life, love, food and shelter, I’ve heard people give thanks for all of the above, and more, much more. Originally, I was looking for something for which to be thankful, without duplicating someone else’s thankfulness. Then the light came on, I’m thankful for all the bad things that happen to me. And, the reason is that the bad things make the good things far more meaningful.

I tend to be fairly well coordinated. I was a gymnast in High school and college and did flips, hand stands, and scales in city and state competitions. It wasn’t until I tripped and broke my toe that I realized what a great gift I had received in being able to move around without hurting myself. . . until then.

To carry this a little further, it also dawned on me that without illness, I probably would take good health for granted. If there was no influenza, how could I possibly appreciate an ache free day. I know that I would assume that agility was commonplace if it were not for my arthritis. Good eyesight would never be questioned if I didn’t have to wear glasses.

But, the one thing that I don’t understand, is youth. No one ever appreciates youth until we get older. And unlike health, agility, and all the other things for which we are each thankful, it cannot be re-attained. You have it, you enjoy it, then it goes away and it isn’t coming back. One day you wake up and your joints ache, your hair is thin, your forty pounds over weight, your kids have their own kids, the wife is gone and so are your teeth, and you wonder . . . “What in the hell happened?”

Well what you have just experienced was life. And yes, it goes on. But someone else is the major participant. At this point you have a supporting role. But later you will become a character actor, then after that you become the stage manager or house manager, then, if you live long enough, you just become a burden.

None of this sounds promising to anyone, but if you play your cards right, you can prolong your health, teach your kids to respect their elders, have enough money to not be a burden to your kids, and spend your retirement in comfort.

Now, what I’m really thankful for is that I can buy my grandson a drum set for Christmas. His mother drove me crazy when she was a kid, and I intend to return the favor.

December 21st. 2012!

Life is funny. We all run in circles. Fashion comes and goes . . . in circles. If you keep a neck tie long enough, it will come back into fashion. The same happens with skirt lengths and hair styles.

The Moon makes its cycle every 27 days or so. A "New Moon" doesn't mean it has gone away, it just means it is starting a new cycle. In the depths of Winter we don't consider the Sun having gone away, it just means Spring isn't too far behind and the cycle starts again. Soon we will be in short sleeves and swimming in the creek.

The Mayans didn't believe the World was coming to an end on December 21, 2012, they believed that was when there would be a new cycle starting.

There are those that mention that there will be an alignment between the Earth, the Sun and the center of the Galaxy on December 21, 2012. That is true . . . but it happens every December, on or about the 21st. There is going to be nothing unusual about the December of 2012, at least not as far as the Universe is concerned. Jupiter will be high in the Southern sky that night and be up all night. The Moon will be about 60% full and Orion will be in the Southern sky. The Milky Way will traverse the sky from East to West through the night. All this will happen . . . as usual.

We will know then if Obama can make it another term, or by then we will know if all Americans can enjoy Universal Health Care. We also will know if the GOP will become a third party or will they still be significant in American Politics.

I believe in recycling whatever we can. Life is a circle. If you live long enough you will be surprised at what comes around again.

Just some thoughts . . .

* Don't handicap your children by making their lives too easy!

* Do everything in Excess. To enjoy the flavor of life take big bites. Moderation is for monks.

* Fake Fortune Tellers will be tolerated. But, if you claim to be an authentic Soothsayer, you will be shot on sight.

* Life is like a roll of toilet paper. The closer you get to the end . . . the faster it goes.

* Listen to the experts. They'll tell you what can't be done and why. Then just go do it.

* There is no conclusive evidence of life after death. But, there is no evidence of any sort against it either. Soon enough you'll know for sure. So why fret about it now?

* The Pope is fallible. The planet is fillable. Promote Birth Control.

The Local Nativity Scene . . .

In a small southern town, somewhat like the one I live in, there was a nativity scene, almost like the one where I live. It was a large one covering some 50 feet or so. But, one small feature bothered me. The three wise men were wearing firemen’s helmets.

Totally unable to come up with a reason or explanation, I went across the street to the local E-Z Mart, and once again, somewhat like where I live. I asked the lady behind the counter about the helmets. She exploded into a rage, yelling at me, “You dern furiners never do read the Bible!”

I assured her that I had, but simply couldn’t recall anything about firemen in the bible. She jerked her Bible from behind the counter and ruffled through some pages, and finally jabbed her finger at a particular passage.

Sticking it in my face she said, “See, it says rot cheer, ‘The tree wise men come from afar.’”

Among The Stones

Here . . . I walk among the stones commemorating those who have gone before. I see their names and dates carved carefully by those who loved them, and those they loved. Their deeds are forgotten for the most part, except what has been passed down. We have lived because of those that these stones represent. Flesh and blood, a beating heart, reduced to clay, and a stone with a name and a date. What about their tragedies? What about their triumphs? What about their accomplishments and their loves? Great lives are reduced to a few lines on a stone. Will we never know the situations and challenges that they overcame? We are here because Sam loved Elsie, Obidia loved Flossie, and Norman loved Alma.

Here . . . I walk among the stones of those who have loved before. The heritage they passed down to us, with a myriad of mysteries is here, within us. It’s all laid out and ready for us to read and explore. We are the accumulated history of these stones. We are what they lived for, we are what they loved for, we are what they fought and died for, and we will be their best works until we pass the prize to those that follow and we join the stones.

(I wrote this for my Mother's funeral)

Is There a Santa Claus?

I remember my first Christmas adventure with Grandma. I was just a kid. I remember tearing across town on my bike to visit her on the day my friend Eddie dropped the bomb: "There is no Santa Claus," he jeered. "Even dummies know that!"

My Grandma was not the gushy kind, never had been. I fled to her that day because I knew she would be straight with me. I knew Grandma always told the truth, and I knew that the truth always went down a whole lot easier when swallowed with one of her "world-famous" cinnamon buns. I knew they were world-famous, because Grandma said so.

It had to be true.

Grandma was home, and the buns were still warm. Between bites, I told her everything. She was ready for me. "No Santa Claus?" She snorted...."Ridiculous! Don't believe it. That rumor has been going around for years, and it makes me mad, plain mad!! Now, put on your coat, and let's go."

"Go? Go where, Grandma?" I asked. I hadn't even finished my second world-famous cinnamon bun.

"Where" turned out to be Kerby's General Store, the one store in town that had a little bit of just about everything. As we walked through its doors,Grandma handed me ten dollars. That was a bundle in those days. "Take this money," she said, "and buy something for someone who needs it. I'll wait for you in the car. "Then she turned and walked out of Kerby's.

I was only eight years old. I'd often gone shopping with my mother,but never had I shopped for anything all by myself.

The store seemed big and crowded, full of people scrambling to finish their Christmas shopping. For a few moments I just stood there, confused, clutching that ten-Dollar bill, wondering what to buy, and who on earth to buy it for. I thought of everybody I knew: my family, my friends , my neighbors, the kids at school, and he people who went
to my church.

I was just about thought out, when I suddenly thought of Bobby Decker. He was a kid with bad breath and messy hair, and he sat right behind me in Mrs. Pollock's grade-two class.

Bobby Decker didn't have a coat. I knew that because he never went out to recess during the winter. His mother always wrote note, telling the teacher that he had a cough, but all we kids knew that Bobby Decker didn't have a cough; he didn't have a good coat. I fingered the ten-dollar bill with growing excitement. I would buy Bobby Decker a coat!

I settled on a red corduroy one that had a hood to it. It looked real warm, and he would like that.

"Is this a Christmas present for someone?" the lady behind the counter asked kindly, as I laid my ten dollars down.

"Yes, ma'am," I replied shyly. "It's for Bobby."

The nice lady smiled at me, as I told her about how Bobby really needed a good winter coat. I didn't get any change, but she put the coat in a bag, smiled again, and wished me a Merry Christmas.

That evening, Grandma helped me wrap the coat (a little tag fell out of the coat, and Grandma tucked it in her Bible) in Christmas paper and ribbons and wrote, "To Bobby, From Santa Claus" on it. Grandma said that Santa always insisted on secrecy. Then she drove me over to Bobby Decker's house, explaining as we went that I was now and forever officially, one of Santa's helpers.

Grandma parked down the street from Bobby's house, and she and I crept noiselessly and hid in the bushes by his front walk.

Then Grandma gave me a nudge. "All right, Santa Claus," she whispered, "get going" I took a deep breath, dashed for his front door, threw the present down on his step, pounded his door and flew back to the safety of the bushes and Grandma.

Together we waited breathlessly in the darkness for the front door to open. Finally it did, and there stood Bobby.

Fifty years haven't dimmed the thrill of those moments spent shivering, beside my Grandma, in Bobby Decker's bushes.

That night , I realized that those awful rumors about Santa Claus were just what Grandma said they were: ridiculous. Santa was alive and well, and we were on his team. I still have the Bible, with the coat tag tucked inside: $19.95. Seems there were more than Grandma and me helping Santa that night.

May you always have LOVE to share, HEALTH to spare and FRIENDS that care....

And may you always believe in the magic of Santa Claus . . . or Father Winter.

(I don't remember where I got this piece, but it seems worth posting at this time of year)