Archive for the ‘Humor’ Category
One sunny day in January 2013, an old man wearing what was once very nice clothing, but now worn and ragged, approached the White House from across Pennsylvania Avenue, where he’d been sitting on a park bench. He spoke to the U.S. Marine standing guard and said, “I would like to go in and meet with President Obama.” The Marine looked at the man and said, “Sir, Mr. Obama is no longer President and no longer resides here.” The old man said, “Okay”, and walked away. Read the rest of this entry »
AF General: “Sir, we have succeeded in creating a cloaking device for Air Force One.”
Obama: “No way!”
AF General: “That’s right, Sir. It will now be invisible.”
Obama: “This I have to see.”
AF General: “Certainly, Sir. Would you like to come along on its maiden flight?”
Obama: “I wouldn’t miss it for the world!”
AF General: “Have a good trip, Sir.”
This poor kid is sure getting mixed messages in this modern PC world:
Our teacher asked us what our favorite animal was, and I said, “Fried chicken.” She said I wasn’t funny, but she couldn’t have been right, because everyone else in the class laughed.
My parents told me to always be truthful and honest, and I am. Fried chicken is my favorite animal. I told my dad what happened, and he said my teacher was probably a member of PETA.
He said they love animals very much. I do, too. Especially chicken, pork and beef. Anyway, my teacher sent me to the principal’s office. I told him what happened, and he laughed, too. Then he told me not to do it again.
The next day in class my teacher asked me what my favorite live animal was. I told her it was chicken. She asked me why, just like she’d asked the other children.
So I told her it was because you could make them into fried chicken. She sent me back to the principal’s office again. He laughed, and told me not to do it again.
I don’t understand. My parents taught me to be honest, but my teacher doesn’t like it when I am.
Today, my teacher asked us to tell her what famous person we admire most. I told her, “Colonel Sanders.”
Guess where I am now…
I shared this with my brother-in-law by e-mail. He reports that my sister said it reminded her of me when I was a kid. However did she manage to come up with that association? ◄Dave►
I was just ruminating over how March 9th has always been a special day in my life for the past 38 years. It is the anniversary of the very last time I ever wore a necktie, on 3/9/73. It is an easy date to remember for me, as it was the last day that I worked for someone else and became an entrepreneur.
Perhaps it was my redneck roots; but I always detested neckties. I reckoned they were about the silliest article of apparel ever foisted on civilized man. My last couple of years as an electronic engineer required to wear one on the job, were particularly frustrating. I was working for the System Development Corporation, a small subsidiary of the Rand (Think Tank) Corporation in a building without air-conditioning in Silicon Valley.
It drove me nuts that men were so discriminated against by management. No matter how muggy it got in the summer, we had to keep our ties on. Yet, so-called “hot pants” and tube tops were in vogue for women at the time, so the ladies could come to work in little more than beach wear. I didn’t mind the eye candy; but our relative comfort levels seemed terribly unfair. I usually worked late on my projects; but at 5:00 PM my tie came off. I simply refused to wear one on my own time, and I was fairly vocal about my disgust over them.
When I resigned to start my first business, they had a going-away luncheon for me. After the boss stood to thank me for all my great work and wish me well in my future, it was my turn to speak. I stood and as I delivered my farewell address, I slowly started undoing my tie and unbuttoning my shirt. I timed it so that I ended with pulling off the tie and asking who wanted it, because I would not have the slightest use for it in my future.
I tossed it to a friend and have never put one on since. Yes, I have been turned away at the occasional pub or restaurant in places like Boston, MA; Nairobi, Kenya; and Salisbury, Rhodesia; but I survived their snooty rejection nicely, thank you. On the other hand, I have been spared attendance at numerous funerals, weddings, and other black tie affairs I had no desire to participate in anyway.
Interestingly, when I moved to Hawaii in ’84, I found a whole culture that agreed with me. Anyone wearing a necktie in Honolulu is immediately suspect. They are either a lawyer, politician, or salesman from the Mainland. Even the bankers wear aloha shirts there, and it was my kind of place. I had great fun with the traveling salesmen who called on me in my Marine Electronics business. I wouldn’t allow them in my office unless they first removed their tie. It was surprising how many of them thought I must be kidding, and how much it put them off their game when I insisted.
So, I have been a contumacious curmudgeon for a very long time; but life can be fun when one gets to live by one’s own rules. ◄Dave►
A brilliant bit! How pathetic that only one of these pinheads even recognized the word. Lord Keynes would not be amused… ◄Dave►
My apologies for not being active here lately; but I have been rather busy with a new hobby.
I do want to give all my old friends a heads up regarding a new scam being perpetrated on unsuspecting old men. Women are often warned about protecting themselves at the mall and in parking lots, etc.; but now men need to be vigilant too while shopping at places with large parking lots like Costco, Home Depot, Lowe’s, or even Walmart.
This insidious new scam works like this:
Two good looking college aged girls will approach while you are loading your purchases in your truck. They start cleaning your windshield, while their breasts are almost falling out of skimpy T-shirts. If you thank them and offer a tip, they decline; but ask for a ride to McDonald’s. If you agree they will climb in your vehicle and on the way there, they start undressing. Then one of them starts climbing all over you while the other one steals your wallet.
It is remarkable how many girls are working this scam and naive old men are the targets of choice. Raised in more innocent times, their mothers only taught their sisters how to say, “No!” to unsolicited advances from the opposite sex. Also, it seems old men rarely report the crimes and apparently can be so “forgetful” they will even fall for it again. Indeed, I had my wallet stolen on Aug,11th, 15th, 19th, twice on the 21st, 25th, 28th, twice on the 29th, and again on the 31st. So far this month they have stolen my wallet on the 3rd, twice on the 5th, the 8th, 10th, 12th, and probably again tomorrow or Wednesday.
It is just awful these days the way heartless kids try to take advantage of us senile senior citizens. What’s more, you never get a chance to actually eat at McDonald’s and I have lost 12 pounds just running back and forth between Home Depot, Costco, Walmart, etc. Please advise all the old men you know to be on the lookout for these scam artists, and hide their driver’s license and debit card in their socks while shopping. Walmart has wallets on sale for $2.99 and sometimes the Dollar Store has them for only $.99. (The best times are just before lunch and around 4:30 P.M.) ◄Dave►
Here is a blast from the past. A political cartoon from the Chicago Tribune in 1934 entitled, “Planned Economy or Planned Destruction”:
Study it carefully; particularly the “Plan of Action.” History repeats itself; and the Progressives accuse the conservatives of having tired outdated ideas! I just loved the “Young Pinkies from Columbia and Harvard.” ◄Dave►
I have been having a nice chat with Gabe, one of the three (and soon to be only two) young Americans who labor diligently to fund my leisurely retirement lifestyle with their payroll taxes, in the comment section of my recent post about the demographic destiny of America. Technically, although I have been eligible for a couple of years, I have not bothered to apply for my SSI “benefit” / “entitlement” / “supplement” – pick an euphemism for Gabe’s hard earned cash. Understanding very well the nature of Ponzi schemes, since I got burned for a bottle of Scotch in a “Christmas Cheer” chain letter back in the ’60s, I honestly didn’t expect SSI to survive this long; so I never factored it into my retirement budget.
I have thus enjoyed a sense of occupying the moral high ground, in my frequent condemnation of America’s slide into socialism, by not being affixed to one of Washington’s teats. With apologies to Gabe, who is undoubtedly quite blameless for my chagrin, that is about to change out of retribution, if not necessity. When prices catch up to the near hyperinflation of our currency, which has the Treasury’s printing presses smoking 24 hours a day now, it will undoubtedly become a necessity; but for now I have cause enough for retribution.
I live the very simple, almost cloistered, lifestyle of a hermit. My needs are few, beyond my access to Google and the virtual world my mind inhabits, and my living expenses are minimal. My only non-digital indulgences are my caffeine and nicotine habits. My pursuit of happiness requires a steady supply of good Columbia Supremo coffee beans, and an occasional smoke. The cost of both has been steadily climbing of late, and I long ago had to adjust my budget for tobacco.
Like the erstwhile connoisseur turned wino, who no longer needs a corkscrew, because his palate has become accustomed to the fresher vintages found in screw capped bottles, my taste in tobacco has of necessity devolved. My first strategy, when ready made cigarettes became too expensive for my frugal sensibilities, was to purchase the making’s and start rolling my own. At first, beyond economy, this offered the benefit of using higher quality tobacco for added smoking pleasure, to offset the labor and hassle involved.
As the price steadily increased, my frugality forced my taste buds to accept lower and lower quality tobacco. Until recently, the cost of a pound of basic quality tobacco had risen to over $15 hereabouts. Outrageous, considering that it will only make about 2.5 cartons, and a ready made carton only cost 70¢ in the PX back in ’63, when the US Army got me hooked on these things. (Yes, they did; only the “real men” who were smokers got to take a smoke break. In my youthful naiveté, I thought I could fake it by not inhaling deeply.)
Now our Federal government has levied a new tax of $25 on a pound of tobacco. $25!! Most of the cost already was taxes, but this new Federal tax is adding an additional $1.00 tax to every pack I roll. That is an additional 5¢ Federal Tax every time I light up! Sorry, Gabe, that is a tax too far, and a retirement budget buster. It is time to sign up for my Federal teat, to recoup all the taxes these do-gooding bastards are extracting from my savings. Of course, inflation is the cruelest tax of all.
I do find it interesting that it is more difficult to establish one’s eligibility for SSI, than it is for the office of President. Even though I have had an account with these people for over 50 years, and they periodically send me pleasant letters telling me all they will do for me when I apply, they are requiring me to send for a copy of my birth certificate and my Army discharge papers. One would think they could just as easy acquire them themselves; but I guess they wouldn’t even do that for the Obamessiah, would they?
It is going to be fun to abandon my frugal nature for a change. I intend to spend Gabe’s cash like the Monopoly money that it is. With a pound of tobacco starting at $40, I might as well spend a few more for the best. Perhaps a daily cigar is in order; it sure looks like it won’t be long before good Cubans will be legal again. Then, I might as well pack an artery with a juicy T-bone occasionally…
The possibilities for indulging myself in life’s little pleasures are endless, while the kids tighten their belts trying to survive this depression. There sure isn’t any point in trying to save or invest any of it; the Progressives would just confiscate most of the earnings while I live, and the rest of it in death taxes when I am gone. I am going to change my will to state, “Being of sound mind, I spent it all.”
Truth be told, it probably isn’t even Gabe’s cash that I will be squandering; but his grandchildren’s. What a country; isn’t “democracy” grand! Now that the Baby Boomers are retiring, we will be such a dominant constituency for pandering, that we should be able to vote ourselves just about any “benefit” our narcissistic hearts desire, and send the bill to unborn generations. Wheeeee… ◄Dave►
CBS recently published a poll breaking the Obamessiah’s approval rating down by race. They claimed that among blacks it was 97 – 0. Apparently not quite:
His logic regarding Souter’s motive for retiring escapes me, since he admits that he was with the majority on the 6 – 3 split. I thought his point on the Hawaii hospitals was more persuasive. ◄Dave►