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Russ,
I've read a couple of the responses to your question.
My original post was not a question.
"touch a cop, go to jail".
I would agree. But this was a young punk cop doing double duty as an undercover at an apartment complex. IOW, he was a hired cop, or was operating as a security guard.
He was not in uniform.
Call it what you wish, this punk was out of line. I longed for our day in court.
The little sissy denied us.
And it still cost me $1200.
I'd like to have his gonads in my hand right now. He would never reproduce and spawn another idiot.
Have fun,
Phil
Edit:
Never mind
Bob,
Don't worry about it.
It's not unusual for Joe to spout off and offer as gospel his opinion when he has no clue as to the real facts.
Have fun,
Phil
Chas,
Another one that breaks the rule.
Science.
Have fun,
Phil
Chas,
You missed:
T. their
Have fun,
Phil
Dan,
Get a full copy of the police report and write back.
You don't think the report will be biased?
LOL
I think it says it all that the cop quit the force and moved out of the state rather than face my lawyer on the stand.
Also, my son's friend, who is my across the street neighbor, told his mother, who is a parole officer, the exact same story my son told me. This was before there was any chance to corroborate.
Have fun,
Phil
Subject: Sports figures say the darndest things
Chicago Cubs outfielder Andre Dawson on being a role model: "I want all them kids to do what I do, to look up to me. I wan all the kids to copulate me."
New Orleans Saint RB George Rogers when asked about the upcoming
season: "I want to rush for 1,000 or 1,500 yards, whichever comes
first."
And, upon hearing Joe Jacobi of the 'Skins say: "I'd run over my own mother to win the Super Bowl," Matt Millen of the Raiders
said: "To win, I'd run over Joe's Mom, too."
Torrin Polk, University of Houston receiver, on his coach, John
Jenkins:"He treats us like men. He lets us wear earrings."
Football commentator and former player Joe Theismann, 1996: "Nobody in football should be called a genius. A genius is a guy like Norman Einstein."
Senior basketball player at the University of Pittsburgh: "I'm going to graduate on time, no matter how long it takes."
Bill Peterson, a Florida State football coach: "You guys line up
alphabetically by height." And "You guys pair up in groups of three, then line up in a circle."
Boxing promoter Dan Duva on Mike Tyson hooking up again with promoter King: "Why would anyone expect him to come out smarter? He went to prison for three years, not Princeton."
Stu Grimson, Chicago Blackhawks left wing, explaining why he keeps a color photo of himself above his locker: "That's so when I forget how to spell my name, I can still find my clothes."
Lou Duva, veteran boxing trainer, on the Spartan training regime of heavyweight Andrew Golota: "He's a guy who gets up at six o'clock in the morning regardless of what time it is."
Chuck Nevitt, North Carolina State basketball player, explaining to Coach Jim Valvano why he appeared nervous at practice: "My sister's expecting a baby, and I don't know if I'm going to be an uncle or an aunt."
Frank Layden, Utah Jazz president, on a former player: "I told him, "Son, what is it with you? Is it ignorance or apathy?' He
said, 'Coach, I don't know and I don't care.'"
Shelby Metcalf, basketball coach at Texas A&M, recounting what he told a player who received four F's and one D: "Son, looks to
me like you're spending too much time on one subject."
Oiler coach Bum Phillips when asked by Bob Costas why he takes his wife on all the road trips, Phillips responded: "Because she
is too dad gum ugly to kiss good-bye."
Have fun,
Phil
Dan,
I have a story to tell.
I don't consider it bashing, but call it what you wish.
My 20 year old son went out with a friend and had a few beers.
The friend was driving and was not drinking. My son got a little loud in the parking lot of the apartment complex and was called over by an undercover cop. My son told the cop, "Hey, everything is cool Dood, give me five", and grabbed the cop's hand to slap it. The cop threw him to the ground, handcuffed him, and charged him with "Felony assault on a police officer".
The lawyer I hired to defend him was so well known in this area that the cop quit the force and moved several states away. The case was "nol prossed", I think was the term.
Is this bashing?
Do cops sometimes use unnecessary force?
That is for the courts to decide.
IMHO, that cop used unnecessary force.
In the end though, we achieved our objective.
He is now someone else's problem.
Have fun,
Phil
Large one,
She told me I could Copy and paste this:
In all honesty, I don't have the stomach for joining a gun debate. I view the gun control situation as one part of much larger issue: Personal responsibility. Or maybe part of another large issue: The wholesale confiscation of private property. This second thought is a Siamese-twin of my opinions on taxation.
Generally speaking, I'm not happy with the trend toward ballot-box robbery -- the most widespread crime in our society. Why circle the stage-coach or ambush the payroll train, face the risks of injury or uncertain spoils, when casting votes of self-interest will put people in positions of power who are willing to do the dirty deeds on our behalf?
I once posted on Silicon Investor that I defined democracy as a system where the most responsible, informed, and civil minded person gets one vote: the same vote as given to the Viliage Idiot. However, democracy is still the best system. It's just that our version of it (representative democracy) isn't yet perfect, and we must do the best we can, given the flaws.
Back to the gun issue...
Removing citizen's ability to provide for their own protection will make them dependent upon some external protection provider. I feel quite strongly that dependency is a cancer in our society, relentlessly devouring our nation's health and strength. Any policies which further dependency is bad policy, and most policies advocated by the gun fearing fall into this catagory.
Cheers, PW.
PW is a classy lady.
I like her and her philosophy.
Khar near at hand,
Have fun,
Phil
Matt,
I agree.
A mo'sheen indeed.
Bob might think it a sissy compared to his though.
LOL
Have fun,
Phil
Matt,
Any good experiences with Saltwater fishing/leisure boats...say 30' or so?
You might want to ask Francis about his knowledge of boats in that class.
The only problem is that he may only be able to give you info on "botes".
IE: sailbotes
My experience runs to boats up to the 25' outboard class.
Have fun,
Phil
Matt,
I doubt I'll ever drive a car.
The only time I have ever been without a truck as my main vehicle was the times that I have been furnished a car by my employers as a business vehicle. Even then, I had a truck for my "weekend" vehicle.
I love 4X4's especially, and cannot remember anytime in the last 30 years that I did not own one.
It is so cool to be able to go to the store for my neighbors when they get snowed in and cannot get their rice burners out of their driveways.
On the subject of snow, about two years ago, at Xmas time, we had a major ice storm here. So severe that we were out of electricity for five days. Unheard of here. I had a little 1100W generator that would run the TV and lights in my den. I was one of a very few that had Xmas lights that week. If we turned the TV off we could vacuum the floor or toast bread. My wife thought she could run the TV, lights, toast bread and vacuum all at the same time. She blew the breaker on the generator. It goes on from there, but took me about an hour to figure out what happened. We cooked Xmas dinner (standing rib roast and yorkshire pudding) on my gas grill.
Right after the Y2K debacle, I bought a 5500W generator that will almost run my whole house, if I manage it. (not counting the heat pump, But I have a wood stove insert in my fireplace).
In two winters, I have yet to crank the generator because of a power outage.
My point?
Like a 4X4, a generator is nice to have when you need it.
Can you live without either?
Sure.
Can you be self sufficient without either?
Depends on where you live and who your neighbors are.
Give me a 4x4, a generator, plenty of gas, a gun and plenty of ammo, I could sustain a community for a while.
Have fun,
Phil
Matt,
I doubt I'll ever drive a car.
The only time I have ever been without a truck as my main vehicle was the times that I have been furnished a car by my employers as a business vehicle. Even then, I had a truck for my "weekend" vehicle.
I love 4X4's especially, and cannot remember anytime in the last 30 years that I did not own one.
It is so cool to be able to go to the store for my neighbors when they get snowed in and cannot get their rice burners out of their driveways.
On the subject of snow, about two years ago, at Xmas time, we had a major ice storm here. So severe that we were out of electricity for five days. Unheard of here. I had a little 1100W generator that would run the TV and lights in my den. I was one of a very few that had Xmas lights that week. If we turned the TV off we could vacuum the floor or toast bread. My wife thought she could run the TV, lights, toast bread and vacuum all at the same time. She blew the breaker on the generator. It goes on from there, but took me about an hour to figure out what happened. We cooked Xmas dinner (standing rib roast and yorkshire pudding) on my gas grill.
Right after the Y2K debacle, I bought a 5500W generator that will almost run my whole house, if I manage it. (not counting the heat pump, But I have a wood stove insert in my fireplace).
In two winters, I have yet to crank the generator because of a power outage.
My point?
Like a 4X4, a generator is nice to have when you need it.
Can you live without either?
Sure.
Can you be self sufficient without either?
Depends on where you live and who your neighbors are.
Give me a 4x4, a generator, plenty of gas, a gun and plenty of ammo, I could sustain a community for a while.
Have fun,
Phil
Matt,
I doubt I'll ever drive a car.
The only time I have ever been without a truck as my main vehicle was the times that I have been furnished a car by my employers as a business vehicle. Even then, I had a truck for my "weekend" vehicle.
I love 4X4's especially, and cannot remember anytime in the last 30 years that I did not own one.
It is so cool to be able to go to the store for my neighbors when they get snowed in and cannot get their rice burners out of their driveways.
On the subject of snow, about two years ago, at Xmas time, we had a major ice storm here. So severe that we were out of electricity for five days. Unheard of here. I had a little 1100W generator that would run the TV and lights in my den. I was one of a very few that had Xmas lights that week. If we turned the TV off we could vacuum the floor or toast bread. My wife thought she could run the TV, lights, toast bread and vacuum all at the same time. She blew the breaker on the generator. It goes on from there, but took me about an hour to figure out what happened. We cooked Xmas dinner (standing rib roast and yorkshire pudding) on my gas grill.
Right after the Y2K debacle, I bought a 5500W generator that will almost run my whole house, if I manage it. (not counting the heat pump, But I have a wood stove insert in my fireplace).
In two winters, I have yet to crank the generator because of a power outage.
My point?
Like a 4X4, a generator is nice to have when you need it.
Can you live without either?
Sure.
Can you be self sufficient without either?
Depends on where you live and who your neighbors are.
Give me a 4x4, a generator, plenty of gas, a gun and plenty of ammo, I could sustain a community for a while.
Have fun,
Phil
Matt,
I was thinking about a Dodge Dakota when I bought my F150 but the deal was too sweet on the Ford.
I have had Zero problems with it until the other day. I stopped at a store to buy a drink and when I got back in it would turn over but would not start. I called Ford. They had it towed to the dealer of my choice, (about twenty miles from where it broke down) and fixed it at zero cost to me.
Turned out it was the theft device that reads the keys to keep an unauthorized key from starting it. The electronic crap they keep putting in the vehicles causes more and more problems.
How do you like your current Dodge. I assume you like it OK, since you are considering another.
I have always been a GM guy, but was assigned an F150 to drive in a recent job and loved it so much that I bought one.
I kind of like the new GM trucks, so If I were to trade in anytime soon, I would condsider one.
http://www.gmc.com/sierra/main.html
Have fun,
Phil
I think I found the link I was looking for:
http://www.liquidgeneration.com/poptoons/britneys_breasts.asp
Have fun,
Phil
Check this out:
http://www.liquidgeneration.com/home.html
Click on the top two "clips of the week"/
Have fun,
Phil
Another humourous post:
Sometimes we just need to remember WHAT the Rules of Life really
are....(my fav is 10)
1. Never give yourself a haircut after three margaritas.
2. You need 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.
3. The five most essential words for a healthy, vital relationship "I apologize" and "You are right."
4. Everyone seems normal until you get to know them.
5. When you make a mistake, make amends immediately. It's easier to eat crow while it's still warm.
6. The only really good advice that your mother ever gave you was, "Go! You might meet somebody!"
7. If he/she says that you are too good for him/her--believe them.
8. Learn to pick your battles; ask yourself, 'Will this matter one year from now? How about one month? One week? One day?'
9. Never pass up an opportunity to pee.
10. If you woke up breathing, congratulations! You have another chance!
11. Living well really is the best revenge. Being miserable because of a bad or former relationship just might mean that the other person was right about you.
12. Work is good, but it's not that important.
13. And finally... Be really nice to your friends. You never know when you are going to need them to empty your bedpan.
Have fun,
Phil
Matt,
What do you drive, Phil?
What time of the week?
LOL
I have about ten vehicles registered in my name. I drive all of them, but mostly I drive a '99 F150 SuperCab 4X4.
And you?
Have fun,
Phil
I guess this post fits here.
Not a joke, but humorous.
Unless you are a cat lover:
This is a little long, but absolutely hilarious even if you are not a cat lover!!!
This is the story of the night my 10-year-old cat, Rudy, got his head stuck in the garbage disposal. I knew at the time that the experience would be funny if the cat survived, so let me tell you right up front that he's fine.
Getting him out wasn't easy, though, and the process included numerous home remedies, a plumber, two cops, an emergency overnight veterinary clinic, a case of mistaken identity, five hours of panic, and 15 minutes of fame.
My husband Rich and I had just returned from a 5-day vacation in the Cayman Islands -- where I had been sick as a dog the whole time. We arrived home at 9 p.m., a day and a half later than we had planned because of airline problems. I still had illness-related vertigo, and because of the flight delays had not been able to prepare for the class I was supposed to teach at 8:40 the next morning. I sat down at my desk to think about William Carlos Williams, and around 10 o'clock I heard Rich hollering
from the kitchen.
I raced over to see what was wrong and spied Rich frantically rooting around under the kitchen sink and Rudy -- or, rather, Rudy's headless body -- scrambling around in the sink, his claws clicking in panic on the metal and his head stuck in the garbage disposal.
Rich had just ground up the skin of some smoked salmon in the disposal, and when he left the room Rudy (who always was a pinhead) had gone in after it. It is very disturbing to see the headless body of your cat in the sink. This is an animal that I have slept with nightly for 10 years, who burrows under the covers and purrs against my side, and who now looked like a fur-covered turkey carcass, defrosting in the sink while it's still alive and kicking.
It was also disturbing to see Rich, Mr. Calm-in-any-Emergency, at his wit's end, trying to simultaneously soothe Rudy and undo the garbage disposal, and failing at both, and basically freaking
out. Adding to the chaos was Rudy's twin brother Lowell, also upset, racing around in circles, jumping onto the kitchen counter and alternately licking Rudy's butt for comfort and biting it out of fear.
Clearly, I had to do something.
First we tried to ease Rudy out of the disposal by lubricating his head and neck with Johnson's baby shampoo (kept on hand for my nieces' visits) and butter-flavored Crisco. Both failed, and a
now-greasy Rudy kept struggling.
Rich then decided to take apart the garbage disposal, which was a good idea, but he couldn't do it. Turns out the thing is constructed like a metal onion: you peel off one layer and another one appears, with Rudy's head still buried deep inside, stuck in a hard plastic collar.
My job during this process was to sit on the kitchen counter petting Rudy, trying to calm him, with the room spinning (vertigo), Lowell howling (he's part Siamese), and Rich clattering around under the sink with his tools. When all our efforts failed, we sought professional help. I called our regular plumber, who actually called me back quickly, even at 11 o'clock at night (thanks, Dave). He talked Rich through further
layers of disposal dismantling, but still we couldn't reach Rudy. I called the 1-800 number for Insinkerator (no response), a pest removal service that advertises 24-hour service (no response), an all-night emergency veterinary clinic (who had no experience in this matter), and finally, in desperation, 9-1-1.
I could see that Rudy's normally pink paw pads were turning blue. The fire department, I figured, gets cats out of trees; maybe they could get one out of a garbage disposal. The dispatcher had other ideas and offered to send over two policemen. The cops arrived close to midnight and turned out to be quite nice. More importantly, they were also able to think
rationally, which we were not. They were, of course, astonished by the situation. "I've never seen anything like this," Officer Mike kept saying. (The unusual circumstances helped us get quickly on a first-name basis with our cops.) Officer Tom, who
expressed immediate sympathy for our plight ("I've had cats all my life," he said), also had an idea.
Evidently we needed a certain tool, a tiny, circular rotating saw, that could cut through the heavy plastic flange encircling Rudy's neck without hurting Rudy. Officer Tom happened to own one. "I live just five minutes from here," he said. "I'll go get it."
He soon returned, and the three of them -- Rich and the two policemen -- got under the sink together to cut through the garbage disposal. I sat on the counter, holding Rudy and trying not to succumb to the surreal-ness of the scene, with the weird
middle-of-the-night lighting, the room's occasional spinning, Lowell's spooky sound effects, an apparently headless cat in my sink and six disembodied legs poking out from under it.
One good thing came of this: the guys did manage to get the bottom off the disposal, so we could now see Rudy's face and knew he could breathe. But they couldn't cut the flange without risking the cat.
Stumped.
Officer Tom had another idea. "You know," he said, "I think the reason we can't get him out is the angle of his head and body. (You can see where this is going, can't you?) "If we could just get the sink out," he continued, "and lay it on its side, I'll bet we could slip him out."
That sounded like a good idea -- at this point, ANYTHING would have sounded like a good idea -- and as it turned out, Officer Mike runs a plumbing business on weekends; he knew how to take out the sink!
Again they went to work, the three pairs of legs sticking out from under the sink, surrounded by an ever-increasing pile of tools and sink parts.
They cut the electrical supply, capped off the plumbing lines, unfastened the metal clamps, unscrewed all the pipes, and about an hour later, viola!
The sink was lifted gently out of the countertop, with one guy holding the garbage disposal which contained Rudy's head) up close to the sink (which contained Rudy's body).
We laid the sink on its side, but even at this more favorable angle, Rudy stayed stuck. Officer Tom's radio beeped, calling him away on some kind of real police business. As he was leaving, though, he had another good idea.
"You know," he said, "I don't think we can get him out while he's struggling so much. We need to get the cat sedated. If he were limp, we could slide him out." And off he went, regretfully, a cat lover still worried about Rudy.
The remaining three of us decided that getting Rudy sedated was a good idea, but Rich and I were new to the area. We knew that the overnight emergency veterinary clinic was only a few minutes away, but we didn't know exactly how to get there. "I know where it is!" declared Officer Mike. "Follow me!" So Mike got into his patrol car, Rich got into the driver's seat of our car, and I got into the back, carrying the kitchen sink, what was left of the garbage disposal, and Rudy.
It was now about 2:00 a.m. We followed Officer Mike for a few blocks when I decided to put my hand into the garbage disposal to pet Rudy's face, hoping I could comfort him. Instead, my sweet, gentle bedfellow chomped down on my finger really hard and wouldn't let go. My scream reflex kicked into gear.
Rich slammed on the brakes, hollering "What? What happened? Should I stop?"
"No," I managed to get out between screams, "just keep
driving. Rudy's biting me, but we've got to get to the vet. Just go!"
Rich turned his attention back to the road, where Officer Mike took a turn we hadn't expected, and we followed. After a few minutes Rudy let go, and as I stopped screaming, I looked up to discover that we were wandering aimlessly through an industrial park, in and out of empty parking lots, past little streets that didn't look at all familiar. "Where's he taking us?" I asked. "We should have been there ten minutes ago!" Rich was as mystified as I was, but all we knew to do was follow the police car until, finally, he pulled into a church parking lot and we pulled up next to him.
As Rich rolled down the window to ask Officer Mike, where are were going, the cop, who was not Mike, rolled down his window and asked, "Why are you following me?" Once Rich and I recovered from our shock at having tailed the wrong cop car and the
policeman from his pique at being stalked, he led us quickly to the emergency vet, where Mike greeted us by holding open the door, exclaiming "Where were you guys???"
It was lucky that Mike got to the vet's ahead of us, because we hadn't thought to call and warn them about what was coming. (Clearly, by this time we weren't really thinking at all.) We brought in the kitchen sink containing Rudy, and the garbage disposal containing his head, and the clinic staff was ready. They took his temperature (which was down 10 degrees) and his
oxygen level (which was half of normal), and the vet declared, "This cat is in serious shock.We've got to sedate him and get him out of there immediately." When I asked if it was OK to sedate a cat in shock, the vet said grimly, "We don't have a choice." With that, he injected the cat. Rudy went limp and the vet squeezed about half a tube of K-Y jelly onto the cat's neck and pulled him free.
Then the whole team jumped into "code blue" mode. (I know this from watching a lot of ER.) They laid Rudy on a cart where one person hooked up IV fluids, another put little socks on his paws ("You'd be amazed how much heat they lose through their footpads," she said), one covered him with hot water bottles and a blanket, and another took a blow-dryer to warm up Rudy's now very gunky head. The fur on his head dried in stiff little spikes, making him look pathetically punk as he lay there, limp and motionless.
At this point they sent Rich, Mike, and me to sit in the waiting room while they tried to bring Rudy back to life. I told Mike he didn't have to stay, but he just stood there, shaking his head. "I've never seen anything like this," he said again and again. At about 3 a.m., the vet came in to tell us that the prognosis was good for a full recovery. They needed to keep Rudy overnight to re-hydrate him and give him something for the brain swelling they assumed he had, but if all went well, we could take him home the following night. Just in time to hear the good news, Officer Tom rushed in, having finished with his real police work and still concerned about Rudy.
Rich and I got back home about 3:30. We hadn't unpacked from our trip, I was still intermittently dizzy, and I still hadn't prepared for my 8:40 class. "I need a vacation," I said, and while I called the office to leave a message canceling my class, Rich made us a pitcher of martinis. I slept late the next day and then badgered the vet about Rudy's condition until he said that Rudy could come home later that day.
I was working on the suitcases when the phone rang. "Hi, this is Steve Huskey from the Norristown Times-Herald," a voice said. "Listen, I was just going through the police blotter from last night. Um, do you have a cat?"
So I told Steve the whole story, which interested him immensely. A couple hours later he called back to say that his editor was interested, too; did I have a picture of Rudy? The next day Rudy was front-page news, under the ridiculous headline "Catch of the Day Lands Cat in Hot Water."
There were some noteworthy repercussions to the newspaper article. Mr. Huskey had somehow inferred that I called 9-1-1 because I thought Rich, my husband, was going into shock, although how he concluded this from my comment that "his pads were turning blue," I don't quite understand. So the first thing I had to do was call Rich at work -- Rich, who had worked tirelessly to free Rudy -- and swear that I had been misquoted.
When I arrived at work myself, I was famous; people had been calling my secretary all morning to inquire about Rudy's health. When I called our regular vet (whom I had met only once) to make a follow-up appointment for Rudy, the receptionist asked, "Is this the famous Rudy's mother?" When I took my car in for routine maintenance a few days later, Dave, my mechanic, said, "We read about your cat. Is he OK?" When I called a tree surgeon about my dying red oak, he asked if I knew the person on that street whose cat had been in the garbage disposal. And when I went to get my hair cut, the shampoo person told me the funny
story her grandma had read in the paper, about a cat that got stuck in the garbage disposal.
Even today, over a year later, people ask about Rudy, which a 9-year-old neighbor had always called "the Adventure Cat" because he used to climb on the roof of her house and peer in the second-story window at her. I don't know what the moral of this story is, but I do know that this "adventure" cost me $1,100 in emergency vet bills, follow-up vet care, new sink, new plumbing,
new electrical wiring, and new garbage disposal -- one with a cover. The vet can no longer say he's seen everything but the kitchen sink.
I wanted to thank Officers Tom and Mike by giving them gift certificates to the local hardware store, but was told that they couldn't accept gifts, and that I would put them in a bad position if I tried. So I wrote a letter to the Police Chief praising their good deeds and sent individual thank you notes to Tom and Mike, complete with pictures of Rudy, so they could see
what he looks like with his head on. And Rudy, whom we originally got for free (or so we thought), still sleeps with me under the covers on cold nights, and, unaccountably, still sometimes prowls the sink, hoping for fish.
Have fun,
Phil
There was a young woman who had been diagnosed with a terminal illness and had been given three months to live. So as she was getting her things "in order," she contacted her Rabbi and had him come to her house to discuss certain aspects of her final wishes.
She told him which songs she wanted sung at the service, what scriptures she would like read, and what outfit she wanted to be buried in.
Everything was in order and the Rabbi was preparing to leave when the young woman suddenly remembered something very important to her.
"There's one more thing," she said excitedly.
"What's that?" came the Rabbi's reply.
"This is very important," the young woman continued. "I want to be buried with a fork in my right hand."
The Rabbi stood looking at the young woman, not knowing quite what to say.
"That surprises you, doesn't it?" the young woman asked. "Well, to be honest, I'm puzzled by the request," said the Rabbi.
The young woman explained. "My grandmother once told me this story, and from there on out, I have always done so. I have also, always tried to pass along its message to those I love and those who are in need of encouragement.
In all my years of attending socials and dinners, I always remember that when the dishes of the main course were being cleared, someone would inevitably lean over and say,
"Keep your fork." It was my favorite part because I knew that something better was coming...like velvety chocolate cake or deep-dish apple pie. Something wonderful, and with substance!'
So, I just want people to see me there in that casket with a fork in my hand and I want them to wonder "What's with the fork?" Then I want you to tell them: "Keep your fork ..The best is yet to come."
The Rabbi's eyes welled up with tears of joy as he hugged the young woman good-bye. He knew this would be one of the last times he would see her before her death. But he also knew that the young woman had a better grasp of heaven than he did. She had a better grasp of what heaven would be like than many people twice her age, with twice as much experience and knowledge.
She KNEW that something better was coming.
At the funeral people were walking by the young woman's casket and they saw the cloak she was wearing and the fork placed in her right hand. Over and over, the Rabbi heard the question "What's with the fork?" And over and over
he smiled.
During his message, the Rabbi told the people of the conversation he had with the young woman shortly before she died. He also told them about the fork and about what it symbolized to her. The Rabbi told the people how he could not stop thinking about the fork and told them that they probably
would not be able to stop thinking about it either.
He was right. So the next time you reach down for your fork, let it remind you ever so gently, that the best is yet to come. Friends are a very rare jewel, indeed. They make you smile and encourage you to succeed. They lend an ear, they share a word of praise, and they always want to open their hearts to us. Show your friends how much you care. Remember to always be there for them,even when you need them more. For you never know when it may be their time to "Keep your fork."
Cherish the time you have, and the memories you share... being friends with someone is not an opportunity but a sweet responsibility.
And always keep your fork.
Have fun,
Phil
Pfizer Corp (NYSE Symbol: PFE) is making the announcement today that VIAGRA will soon be available in liquid form and will be marketed by Pepsi Bottling Group (NYSE Symbol: PBG) as a power beverage suitable for use as-is, or as a mixer, under the name "Mount And Do".
Pepsi's new ad campaign, which is expected to be a big hit, will say; "Now you CAN pour yourself a stiff one!"
Have fun,
Phil
The teachers out there should love this one:
The mind of a six-year old is wonderful.
First grade... supposedly true story.
One day the first grade teacher was reading the story of Chicken
Little to her class. She came to the part of the story where
Chicken Little tried to warn the farmer. She read, ".... and so Chicken Little went up to the farmer and said, "The sky is falling, the sky is falling!"
The teacher paused then asked the class, "And what do you think that farmer said?"
One little girl raised her hand and said, "I think he said:
'Holy Shit! A talking chicken!'"
The teacher was unable to teach for the next 10 minutes.
Have fun,
Phil
That was Beautiful Bullrider!
So true, so true.
Check out this one:
Once there were three trees on a hill in the woods.
They were discussing their hopes and dreams when the first tree said, "Someday I hope to be a treasure chest. I could be filled with gold, silver and precious gems. I could be decorated with intricate carving and everyone would see the beauty."
Then the second tree said, "Someday I will be a mighty ship. I will take kings and queens across the waters and sail to the corners of the world. Everyone will feel safe in me because of the strength of my hull."
Finally the third tree said, "I want to grow to be the tallest and straightest tree in the forest. People will see me on top of the hill and look up to my branches, and think of the heavens and God and how close to them I am reaching. I will be the greatest tree of all time and people will always remember me."
After a few years of praying that their dreams would come true, a group of woodsmen came upon the trees. When one came to the first tree he said, "This looks like a strong tree, I think I should be able to sell the wood to a carpenter, "and he began cutting it down. The tree was happy, because he knew that the carpenter would make him into a treasure chest.
At the second tree the woodsman said, "This looks like a strong tree, I should be able to sell it to the shipyard." The second tree was happy because he knew he was on his way to becoming a mighty ship.
When the woodsmen came upon the third tree, the tree was frightened because he knew that if they cut him down his dreams would not come true. One of the woodsmen said, "I don't need anything special from my tree, I'll take this one," and he cut it down.
When the first tree arrived at the carpenters, he was made into a feed box for animals. He was then placed in a barn and filled with hay. This was not at all what he had prayed for.
The second tree was cut and made into a small fishing boat. His dreams of being a mighty ship and carrying kings had come to an end.
The third tree was cut into large pieces and left alone in
the dark.
The years went by, and the trees forgot about their dreams.
Then one day, a man and woman came to the barn. She gave birth and they placed the baby in the hay in the feed box that was made from the first tree. The man wished that he could have made a crib for the baby, but this manger would have to do.
The tree could feel the importance of this event and knew that it had held the greatest treasure of all time.
Years later, a group of men got in the fishing boat made from the second tree. One of them was tired and went to sleep. While they were out on the water, a great storm arose and the tree didn't think it was strong enough to keep the men safe. The men woke the sleeping man, and He stood and said "Peace" and the storm stopped. At this time, the tree knew that it had
carried the King of Kings in its boat.
Finally, someone came and got the third tree. It was carried through the streets as the people mocked the man who was carrying it. When they came to a stop, the man was nailed to the tree and raised in the air to die at the top of a hill.
When Sunday came, the tree came to realize that it was strong enough to stand at the top of the hill and be as close to God as was possible, because Jesus had been crucified on it.
The moral of this story is that when things don't seem to be going your way, always know that God has a plan for you. If you place your trust in Him, He will give you great gifts.
Each of the trees got what they wanted, just not in the way they had imagined. We don't always know what God's plans are for us. We just know that His ways are not our ways, but His ways are always best.
Have fun,
Phil
Edit:
I was trying to post a picture I recieved VIA hotmail.
I can't do it.
I hate hotmail.
Have fun,
Phil
Bill and his wife Martha went to the state fair every year and every year Bill would say, "Martha, I'd like to ride in that airplane."
Martha always replied, "I know Bill, but that airplane ride costs 10 dollars, and 10 dollars is 10 dollars."
One year, Bill and Martha went to the fair and Bill said, "Martha, I'm 81 years old. If I don't ride that airplane I might never get another chance."
Martha replied, "Bill, that airplane ride costs 10 dollars, and 10 dollars is 10 dollars."
The pilot overheard them and said, "Folks, I'll make you a deal. I'll take you both up for a ride. If you can stay quiet for the entire ride and not say one word, I won't charge you; but if you say one word it's 10 dollars."
Bill and Martha agreed and up they went.
The pilot did all kinds of twists and turns, rolls and dives, but not a word was heard. He did all his tricks over again, but still not a word.
When they landed, the pilot turned to Bill and said, "By golly, I did everything I could think of to get you to yell out, but you didn't."
Bill replied, "Well, I was gonna say something when Martha fell out, but 10 dollars is 10 dollars!!!!
Have fun,
Phil
A Thousand Marbles
A few weeks ago, I was shuffling toward the basement
with a steaming cup of coffee in one hand and the
morning paper in the other. I turned the dial up
into the phone portion of the band on my ham
radio in order to listen to a Saturday morning
swap net. Along the way, I came across an older
sounding chap, with a tremendous signal and a
golden voice. He was telling whoever he was talking
with something about "a thousand marbles."
I was intrigued and stopped to listen to what he had
to say. "Well, Tom, it sure sounds like you're busy
with your job. I'm sure they pay you well but it's
a shame you have to be away from home and your family
so much. Hard to believe a young fellow should have
to work sixty or seventy hours a week to make ends
meet. Too bad you missed your daughter's dance
recital." He continued, "Let me tell you something
Tom, something that has helped me keep a good
perspective on my own priorities." And that's when
he began to explain his theory of a "thousand
marbles." "You see, I sat down one day and did a
little arithmetic. The average person lives about
seventy-five years. I know, some live more and
some live less, but on average, folks live about
seventy-five years. Now then, I multiplied 75
times 52 and I came up with 3900 which is the number
of Saturdays that the average person has in their
entire lifetime.
Now stick with me Tom, I'm getting to the important
part. It took me until I was fifty-five years old
to think about all this in any detail," he went on,
"and by that time I had lived through over twenty-eight
hundred Saturdays. I got to thinking that if I lived
to be seventy-five, I only had about a thousand of
them left to enjoy. So I went to a toy store and
bought every single marble they had. I ended up
having to visit three toy stores to roundup 1000
marbles. I took them home and put them inside
of a large, clear plastic container right here
in the shack next to my gear.
Every Saturday since then, I have taken one marble
out and thrown it away. I found that by watching
the marbles diminish, I focused more on the really
important things in life. There is nothing like
watching your time here on this earth run out
to help get your priorities straight.
Now let me tell you one last thing before I
sign-off with you and take my lovely wife out
for breakfast. This morning, I took the very
last marble out of the container. I figure if
I make it until next Saturday then I have been
given a little extra time. And the one thing
we can all use is a little more time. It was
nice to meet you
Tom, I hope you spend more time with your family,
and I hope to meet you again here on the band.
75 year Old Man, this is K9NZQ, clear and going
QRT, good morning!"
You could have heard a pin drop on the band when this
fellow signed off. I guess he gave us all a lot to
think about. I had planned to work on the antenna that
morning, and then I was going to meet up with a few
hams to work on the next club newsletter. Instead, I
went upstairs and woke my wife up with a kiss.
"C'mon honey, I'm taking you and the kids to breakfast."
"What brought this on?" she asked with a smile.
"Oh, nothing special, it's just been a long time
since we spent a Saturday together with the kids.
Hey, can we stop at a toy store while we're out?
I need to buy some marbles."
Have fun,
Phil
A local law enforcement officer stops a car for traveling faster than the posted speed limit. Since he's in a good mood that day he decides to give the poor fellow a break and write him out a
warning instead of a ticket. So, he asks the man his name.
"Fred," he replies. "Fred what?" the officer asks. "Just Fred," the man responds. When the officer presses him for a last name, the man tells him that he used to have a last name but lost it.
The officer thinks he has a nutcase on his hands but plays along
with it. "Tell me Fred, how did you lose your last name?" The man
replies, "It's a long story so stay with me. I was born Fred
Dingaling. I know, funny last name. The kids used to tease me all the time. So I stayed to myself. I studied hard and got good
grades. When I got older I realized that I wanted to be a doctor.
I went through college, medical school, internship, residency,
finally got my degree so I was Fred Dingaling, MD. After a while I got bored being a doctor so I decided to go back to school. Dentistry was my dream. Got all the way through school, got my degree so I was now Fred
Dingaling MD DDS. Got bored doing dentistry so I started fooling around with my assistant. She gave me VD. So, I was Fred Dingaling MD DDS with VD. Well, the ADA found out about the VD so they took away my DDS so I was Fred Dingaling MD with VD.
Then the AMA found out about the ADA taking away my DDS because
of the VD, so they took away my MD leaving me as Fred Dingaling
with VD. Then the VD took away my dingaling so now I'm just Fred."
The officer walked away in tears laughing so hard and tore up the
Warning Ticket.
Have fun,
Phil
Young King Arthur was ambushed and imprisoned by the monarch of a neighboring kingdom. The monarch could have killed him, but was moved by Arthur's youth and ideals. So the monarch offered him freedom, as long as he could answer a very difficult question. Arthur would have a year to figure out the answer; if, after a year, he still had no answer, he would be put to death.
The question: What do women really want?
Such a question would perplex even the most knowledgeable man, and to young Arthur, it seemed an impossible query. But, since it was better than death, he accepted the monarch's proposition to have an answer by year's end.
He returned to his kingdom and began to poll everybody: the princess, the prostitutes, the priests, the wise men, the court jester. He spoke with everyone, but no one could give him a satisfactory answer. Many people advised him to consult the old witch--only she would know the answer. The price would be high; the witch was famous throughout the kingdom for the exorbitant prices she charged.
The last day of the year arrived and Arthur had no alternative but to talk to the witch. She agreed to answer his question, but he'd have to accept her price first: The old witch wanted to marry Gawain, the most noble of the Knights of the Round Table and Arthur's closest friend!
Young Arthur was horrified: She was hunchbacked and hideous, had only one tooth, smelled like sewage, made obscene noises... etc. He had never encountered such a repugnant creature. He refused to force his friend to marry her and have to endure such a burden.
Gawain, upon learning of the proposal, spoke with Arthur. He told him that nothing was too big a sacrifice compared to Arthur's life and the preservation of the Round Table. Hence, their wedding was proclaimed, and the witch answered Arthur's question thus: What a woman really wants is to be in charge of her own life.
Everyone instantly knew that the witch had uttered a great truth and that Arthur's life would be spared. And so it was. The neighboring monarch granted Arthur total freedom.
What a wedding Gawain and the witch had! Arthur was torn between relief and anguish. Gawain was proper as always, gentle and courteous. The old witch put her worst manners on display, and generally made everyone very uncomfortable.
The honeymoon hour approached. Gawain, steeling himself for a horrific experience, entered the bedroom. But what a sight awaited him! The most beautiful woman he'd ever seen lay before him! The astounded Gawain asked what had happened.
The beauty replied that since he had been so kind to her when she'd appeared as a witch, she would henceforth be her horrible, deformed self half the time, and the other half, she would be her beautiful maiden self. Which would he want her to be during the day, and which during the night?
What a cruel question! Gawain pondered his predicament. During the day, a beautiful woman to show off to his friends, but at night, in the privacy of his home, an old witch? Or would he prefer having by day a hideous witch, but by night a beautiful woman with whom to enjoy many intimate moments?
Noble Gawain replied that he would let her choose for herself.
Upon hearing this, she announced that she would be beautiful all the time, because he had respected her enough to let her be in charge of her own life.
What is the moral of this story?
The moral is: If a woman doesn't get her own way, things are going to get ugly!
Have fun,
Phil
The engineer meets the manager ...
A man in a hot air balloon realized he was lost. He
reduced altitude and spotted a woman below. He
descended a bit more and shouted,
"Excuse me, can you help me? I promised a friend I
would meet him an hour ago, but I don't know where
I am."
The woman below replied, "You are in a hot air balloon
hovering approximately 30 feet above the ground. You
are between 40 and 41 degrees north latitude and
between 59 and 60 degrees west longitude."
"You must be an engineer," said the balloonist.
"I am," replied the woman, "How did you know?"
"Well," answered the balloonist, "everything you told
me is, technically correct, but I have no idea what to
make of your information, and the fact is I am still
lost. Frankly, you've not been much help so far."
The woman below responded, "You must be in
Management."
"I am," replied the balloonist, "but how did you
know?"
Well," said the woman, "you don't know where you are
or where you are going. You have risen to where you
are due to a large quantity of hot air. You made a
promise which you have no idea how to keep, and you
expect people beneath you to solve your problems. The
fact is, you are in exactly the same position you were
in before we met, but now, somehow, it's my fault."
Have fun,
Phil
"Tater" People
Some people never seem motivated to participate, but are just content to watch while others do the work.
They are called "Speck Taters".
Some people never do anything to help,
but are gifted at finding fault with the way others do the work.
They are called "Comment Taters".
Some people are very bossy and like to tell others what to do,
but don't want to soil their own hands.
They are called "Dick Taters".
Some people are always looking to cause problems by asking others
to agree with them. It is too hot or too cold, too sour or too
sweet.
They are called "Agie Taters".
There are those who say they will help, but somehow just
never get around to actually doing what they promised.
They are called "Hezzie Taters".
Some people can put up a front and pretend to be someone they are
not.
They are called "Emma Taters".
Then there are those who love others and do what they say they
will. They are always prepared to stop whatever they are doing and lend a helping hand. They bring real sunshine into the lives of others.
They are called "Sweet Taters".
Have fun,
Phil
Subject: Woo! Woo!
Two Indians and a Hillbilly were walking in the woods, all of a sudden one of the Indians ran up a hill to the mouth of a small cave.
"Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!" he called into the cave and then he
listened very closely until he heard a answering:
"Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!" He tore off his clothes and ran into the cave.
The Hillbilly was puzzled and asked the other Indian what that was all about, was the other Indian crazy or what?
"No," said the Indian. "It is our custom during mating season when Indian men see cave, they holler 'Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!' into the opening. If they get an answer back, it means there is a girl in there waiting to mate."
Just then they saw another cave. the Indian ran up to the opening of the cave, stopped, and hollered,
"Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!"
Immediately,there was an answering Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!" from deep inside the cave. He tore off his clothes and ran into the cave.
The Hillbilly wandered around in the woods alone for a while, and then he came upon a great big cave. As he looked in amazement at the size of the huge opening, he was thinking, "Hoo, man! Look at the size of this cave! It is bigger than those the Indians found. There must be some really big, fine women in this cave!"
He stood in front of the opening and hollered with all his might Wooooo! Wooooo! Wooooo!"
He grinned and closed his eyes in anticipation, and then he heard the answering call, "WOOOO! WOOOOOOOOO! WOOOO!"
With a gleam in his eyes and a smile on his face, he raced into the cave, tearing off his clothes as he ran.
The following day, the headline of the Local Newspaper read.....
"NAKED HILLBILLY RUN OVER BY FREIGHT TRAIN."
Have fun,
Phil
PW sent me this link so all of you could check out her contributions to SI.
http://pmswitch.tripod.com/witchurl.html
Have fun,
Phil
Matt,
Raising a daughter. God bless his soul. <g>
I hope I interpretated that correctly.
I am raising two.
17 and 19.
Both very pretty.
Fortunately, I haven't had to kill any of their dates yet.
Have fun,
Phil
I know PW from SI. She is one of the most colorful authors I have had the pleasure of reading. I truly hope she starts her own thread here. I will read and contribute regularly if she does.
If she doesn't I will start one and simply repost her stories for the pleasure of those that haven't had the opportunity.
It begins here:
Posted by: PMS Witch
In reply to: NorthWesterner who wrote msg# 405 Date: 2/8/2002 6:06:45 PM
Post # of 425
Membership qualifications. Let’s see if they are enough…
1. Slide rule. We didn’t BUY slide rules. We used hand-me-downs. The cursor was usually scratched away above the C and D scales. The one I used was either bone or ivory and yellowed. The ‘lucky’ kids used the newer plastic ones which were still white.
2. We not only used the punch cards, we used switches and lights to get the thing to boot. And God help us if we made a mistake along the way – we’d need to start over again.
3. Cuba was too far away to care about. It was just another thing the teachers were worked up over. Like chewing gum, duck-tail hair, poodle skirts, and Elvis.
4. Nixon-Kennedy. Disqualified. Canadians don’t usually vote for U.S. presidents
5. Beatles. No. I didn’t care for Ed Sullivan show, and didn’t watch it. Would’ve liked to see the Beatles appearance, but didn’t. Did enjoy watching parents tortured by the kids wearing Beatles hairstyles immediately after.
6. We don’t have AARP here. I get ‘Seniors Discount’ at McDonalds without asking.
Cheers, PW.
http://www.investorshub.com/boards/read_msg.asp?message_id=269240
I replied with this post:
Posted by: Bullrider
In reply to: PMS Witch who wrote msg# 411 Date: 2/8/2002 8:00:35 PM
Post # of 425
Welcome PW,
I see you have been a member for a while, but not many posts.
Don't make a stranger of yourself.
I have always loved your stories.
Why don't you start a daily story thread. I'll bookmark it and try to post daily.
Have fun,
Phil
She replied to my post then sent me a PM. I asked if I could post her PM here, and she allowed me to:
In responding to your post on the Old Timers thread, I discoverd you participate in the Gun discussion.
In Canada, we have recently enacted some tough new gun control legislation. At inception, the estimated cost was to be C$80 million for full implementation. Currently, we have barely scratched the surface of achieving the goals of this new round of regulations and the cost has already reached C$900 million, or roughly eleven-fold the original estimate. Translated to a personal number, this becomes C$200 for every man, woman, child, cat, and dog in our country of 30 million people. And the work isn't even close to completion.
Once can only speculate about the good that could be done in our society if this money was was spent less foolishly.
But maybe worse than some dollars being flushed down the drain is the changes in attitude that accompany this legislation. It forces the public to accept, and even require, protection from the authorities as it removes the ability of people to protect themselves.
I had a fox hanging around the house. Concerned about rabies, I wanted it taken care of (shot), but I had a great deal of difficulty finding someone to do the job. Many years ago, I just hired the kids from across the road to shoot some critter that was bothering us. They came over one morning, did the job, returned home, and were on the school bus before I finished my first coffee. They were happy with the $5 and I was happy with the peace.
I just feel more comfortable knowing that the neighbours have guns. This puts me out of step with the current national hysteria.
I'm not getting to my point, but will try now...
Keep up the pressure against gun control. Don't let your guard down. And above all, never forget that your opponents will have no hesitation about using the most vile and dishonest trickery against you.
Cheers, PW.
P.S. One tactic used to support gun control in Canada was to take public opinion polls. They only called on women 'of a certain age' to participate. I fell into that demographic and was polled. They probably threw out my answers! I'm sure they didn't align with the results they were seeking.
PW is a welcome addition to any thread she chooses to post on and I am pleased that she shares our beliefs on this issue.
Have fun,
Phil
Fred,
Thank you very much.
You're welcome.
Have fun,
Phil
Little David comes home from first grade and tells his father
that they learned about the history of Valentine's Day.
"Since Valentine's day is for a Christian saint and we're Jewish," he asks, "will God get mad at me for giving someone a valentine?"
David's father thinks a bit, then says "No, I don't think God would get mad. Who do you want to give a valentine to?"
"Osama Bin Laden," David says.
"Why Osama Bin Laden," his father asks in shock.
"Well," David says, "I thought that if a little American Jewish boy could have enough love to give Osama a valentine, he might start to think that maybe we're not all bad, and maybe start loving people a little bit. And if other kids saw what I did and sent valentines to Osama, he'd love everyone a lot. And then he'd start going all over the place to tell everyone how much he loved them and how he didn't hate anyone anymore."
His father's heart swells and he looks at his boy with newfound pride. "David, that's the most wonderful thing I've ever heard."
"I know," David says, "and once that gets him out in the open, the Army could blow the shit out of him."
Have fun,
Phil
K,
There is something in the poem that deals with Leap year.
I found it:
Thirty days hath September,
April, June, and November;
All the rest have thirty-one
Excepting February alone:
Which hath but twenty-eight, in fine,
Till leap year gives it twenty-nine.
http://www.greenheart.com/billh/intro.html
Have fun,
Phil
RH,
These are surely travesties of justice.
But the judgements are either because of inadequate counsel or idiotoc liberal judges.
How do we weed out the idiots and incompetents?
Just wondering.
Have fun,
Phil
PJ,
One of the sayings I have always thought humourous is:
My wife left me for my best friend, and I miss him.
Have fun,
Phil