Friday, November 8, 2013


(It was Erin Moran)

I can remember some things!  For instance:

A couple of true stories:

When I was a kid, I was sure my dad knew everything.  When we were in, say, a large auditorium, I would ask him what the huge chandelier above us weighed. He'd think a minute, turn to me & say, "1,387 pounds."  I believed him, not realizing he had pulled the answer directly from his butt.  I used the same source (my butt, not his) later when answering my own children because it at least momentarily stopped the questioning.  As far as I know, my children gave this same sort of information to my grandchildren.  I assume this system will carry on through the ages.

There was a judge in the Los Angeles Superior Court who was quite elderly, but his mind was still sharp as a tack.  He was only about 5' tall & his vision was failing.  When he leaned over at his high desk, practically putting his nose on a paper in order to read it, he couldn't be seen by anyone in the courtroom.  One day, he was quietly studying some papers when an attorney looked up at the bench &, of course, couldn't see the judge. He asked, loudly, "Where did that son of a bitch go?"  The judge sat upright, smiled, waved at the attorney & said, "Here I am!!"  I don't think the attorney was sanctioned--everybody in the court, including the judge, had a good laugh!!

And a couple of jokes:

A few old couples used to get together to talk about life and to have a good time. One day one of the men, Harry, started talking about this fantastic restaurant he recently went to with his wife. “Really?”, one of the men asked, "What’s it called?" After thinking for a few seconds Harry said, “What are those good smelling flowers called again?”  “Do you mean a rose?" the first man questioned. “Yes, that’s it!” he exclaimed.  Looking over at his wife he said, “Rose, what’s the name of that restaurant we went to the other night?”

One of the funniest memories I have of the trials and tribulations of making the journey from childhood to adulthood was our annual summer vacation trek from Chicago to a cabin usually someplace on a lake in Wisconsin or Michigan. Every year, it seems, we would get on a highway a few miles out of the city, and mom would wail, “Oh my goodness! I think left the iron on.” And almost every year we would turn around and go back. But as I recall, not once was it was ever plugged in. She often had the same fear that all our earthly possessions would disappear in a fire caused by her forgetfulness. When I was about 14 years old, we were headed out of Chicago for Lake Geneva, Wisconsin and, sure enough, Mom gasped, “I just know I left the iron on.”
My father didn’t say a word, just pulled over onto the shoulder of the road, got out, opened the trunk and handed her the iron.                                                                       5jokesaday.com


Lots of cartoons today:

I had a really clever closing comment for today.  I wish I could remember what it was!!----fishducky