It's that time again and here I am.  Did you know this past week was
National Women's Health Week?  You didn't care, did you?  Regardless, I
decided to write one about a recent, somewhat delicate, heath experience of
mine.  It is mostly for the ladies, but I hope menfolk all have wives or
girlfriends, or at least hope to at some time.

----------------------

Mammogram Morning

by Sheila Moss

I talked rapidly as my doctor looked over my chart, hoping that he would not
notice that I’d not had a mammogram in two years.

"How long since you had a mammogram?" he asked. I had to admit to the truth
since he had it right there in front of him anyhow.

"The nurse will make you an appointment," said the doctor, knowing I’d
probably never get around to it.

"Do you perform monthly self exams?" he asked. It seems you can’t just go to
the doctor any more and get a checkup. They always find something else that
needs testing or checking, so you have to go back.

I arrived at the women’s clinic on the appointed morning feeling a bit like
a watermelon before a Gallagher performance.

"I don’t have you down for today," said the receptionist. Oh, good, maybe I
can get out of this after all. "But we will work you in," she continued.
Just my luck. I don’t know how I got mixed up about the day. Selective
memory, I suppose.

I filled out the mountain of paperwork that they required, answering all the
highly personal questions again, even though I had been to this clinic
before, and even though I was there only two weeks prior to this. Why they
need to know how old I was when I had my first child, or whether I’m
allergic to latex I’m still trying to figure out.

Anyhow, they finally called my name and I went in the little dressing room
and put on the little cape, in preparation for my grand entrance. I’m sure I
looked fabulous in the latest designer medical attire.

"No history and no specific problems? Just a routine exam?"

Yes, I nodded dumbly, wondering why I just filled out all that paperwork sin
ce apparently nobody looked at it anyhow.

As I went into the room with the torture machine, my brain told my body to
run away, out through the waiting room, past the other grim-faced women, and
out the front door screaming, with my cape clutched tightly around me. But
all I did was bravely step up to the machine and wait for Nurse Gallagher to
perform her sadistic duties.

What man invented the mammogram machine anyhow? It had to be a man. No woman
would invent a machine that feels so much like medical malpractice. No, I
don’t want to have cancer, and I know about all the women whose lives have
been save by a simple mammogram. So why am I afraid?

"Do you perform monthly self-breast exams?" asked Nurse Gallagher, as if I
could think of anything other than being smashed with a giant mallet.

This will only take a few minutes, " she promised, as the machine hummed and
I held my breath, waiting to pass out.

At last the ordeal was over and I gratefully returned to the dressing room
to check out the damage.

"We will call if there is a problem," said the receptionist. "Your doctor
will have the results by tomorrow."

So, I’ll return to my normal routine, feeling a bit black and blue in
unspecified places, but otherwise none the worst for my ordeal. But not
every woman will. Of the eight women in the waiting room, statistics say one
of us will have breast cancer at some time in her life. This year, 39,800
women will die of this disease.

As I strolled smugly out the door, I was very pleased with myself for taking
care of my health. I felt a slight twinge of pity for the women in the
waiting room diligently recording the history of their life, which will most
likely never be read.

Now that it is all over, I can’t imagine why anyone would feel embarrassed
or afraid. Why are we silly women so nervous?

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

Permission is granted to republish this article anywhere you like. Please
include my name.

--------------------

Since this one has important health info, I've decided to waive my usual
copyright privileges.  Scratch that itch and send this one to your newsgroup
or post or publish it any place you please.  If you would be good enough to
leave my name on it, I'd appreciate it.

Though the membership for my mailing list has remained steady, the hits on
my website have skyrocketed in the last few weeks.  I've been unable to
identify any one source to thank, so I can only assume that the word is
getting out at last.  Thanks again to my loyal readers as you are the
backbone of this little venture.  It's great, and I'm lovin' every minute of
it!

Take care and see ya next week!

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Greetings on another Saturday Morning!

As you may know the South was slammed by a series of severe storms this
week.  I just got my roof fixed from the last storm, and I've been up nights
biting my nails afraid it would blow off.  My only casualty was the pear
tree, however, unless you count my honey leaving the sun roof open on his
vehicle during a hail storm.  What a week!

Anyhow, I managed to pen a column for Moms between lightning strikes:

------------------------------------------------------

To Mom

This Sunday is the day, which has been set aside to honor mom, Mother’s Day.
Now in reality we should be honoring mom every day, but most of us choose to
let them honor us instead; and most moms continue to do honor us long after
the time when we should be taking care of things ourselves.

When I was growing up, my mother did everything. I never knew how to cook,
clean house, or do laundry until after I was married. Boy, was that a shock!
You mean all this stuff has not been doing itself for all these years?

When we mature and separate from our family of birth, we tend to find fault
and be critical. Mom either does too much and smothers us, or not enough and
we feel neglected. Mom can’t win.

It’s been said that the older we become, the wiser our parents seem to get.
That’s especially true when baby comes along and we don’t have the first
idea about what to do for colic, diarrhea, or a fever. And so we call good
old mom, now the source of wisdom and experience.

Of course, nobody ever appreciates us as much as our mothers, in spite of
our shortcomings. Ever hear the mother of a convicted murderer say on TV
what a good boy her son was before he became a murderer?

We try to do the impossible and say thanks for a lifetime of sacrifice with
a card, a gift, or a bunch of flowers. So inadequate for what mothers do for
their kids. We try to say thank you in one day for voluntary losses so great
and so numerous that no gift could ever be thanks enough.

Some believe that we pay back our mother by sacrificing for our own
children. But, what about people that don’t have children? They get a free
ride? While there may some repayment with a short period of roll reversal as
parents grow old, for most of life mom will be the caregiver and we will be
the care receiver.

Mom doesn’t want more gadgets to dust, more nightgowns to put in the dresser
drawer, or flowers to aggravate her allergies. If only it could be that
simple. What a mother wants is for her children to do something to show that
she has succeeded in her most important role in life, being a mother.

All mothers have an invisible bag inside where they save up the memories
that their children have created. Sometimes they share them with friends who
are also mothers, but mostly they simply save these things to ponder and
think about in moments of lesser achievement.

Mother cures our ills with chicken soup while telling us that we should have
listened to her and taken an umbrella, whether it was raining or not.
Mothers always know. We do not understand these phenomena, but they seem to
have a sixth sense when it comes to their children. Whatever happens, mother
knew that it would happen one of these days. Thank God it wasn’t worse!

What’s the use? We keep saying thanks for things we can’t possible thank
mother for. So, how can we really repay mom? Simple, grow up to be a
somewhat worthwhile person and as an added bonus do something to make her
proud. That’s really all a mother wants anyhow – except, perhaps, a nap.

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

--------------------------------------------------------

For more hilarious Mother's Day humor, check out Murphy's Laws for Mothers
at http://www.humorcolumnist.com/murphymom.htm

--------------------------------------------------------
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I was very upset this week at finding 3 or 4 of my columns posted on a
public net forum without my permission.  I sell this stuff, believe it or
not, and simply taking it to use for free is stealing. If you see my columns
posted anywhere other than on my site or the Daily News, let me know.  You
can even use the email form on my website and remain anonymous.  If you want
to print this week's column for your mom or forward it, that's another
story. You have my permission to do so, and give her an extra hug for me.

Have a great week!  Stay dry, close your sun roof and avoid pear trees.

--------------------------------------------------------

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Hello, hope you had a good week.  It's been wild at my house with roofers
and painters all over the house repairing damage from a hail storm last
winter. The good news is they managed to get the roof off and back on in one
day, and it didn't rain.  Need a good contractor in the Nashville area?
I've got one for you.

With all the stuff going on, who would think there is time for anything
else?  Nevertheless, when there is a child around, they have their own
priorities.  I'm off the political topics now, and back to our more normal
fare with this week's column, a fish story.

----------

Alpha Betta

We have a new pet at my house.  After much discussion, my daughter managed
to talk my grandson out of a hamster - as long as he could have a fish
instead.

Now when a fish was mentioned, I though of a goldfish. It seems, however,
that goldfish have gone out of vogue. The pet fish of choice these days is
called a "Betta" fish. I’d never heard of such a thing, which shows how well
I keep up with trends, I guess. I thought beta was the second letter in the
Greek alphabet.

In fish language, it has nothing to do with the alphabet. Betta is the
"genus" or part of the scientific name of this particular biological
species. Yes, it’s been quite disappointing to me as well. They are not even
Greek fish; they are Siamese fighting fish. You can only put one Betta fish
in a fishbowl, or they will fight with each other, sort of the Pit Bulls of
the fish world, I suppose.

"They are only five dollars," my daughter said. "And they are really cute!"
How a fish can be cute I’m not quite sure, but anyhow I agreed that we could
have a pet fish.

My daughter volunteered to purchase the fish, not knowing that the local
Wal-Mart didn’t have any. Purchasing the fish turned out to mean going to
the pet store. After dragging my grandson past the hamsters and prying him
loose from the gerbil cage, she finally made it to the back of the store
where the fish aquariums were.

These aquatic critters come in a rainbow of colors like red, green, purple,
yellow, and blue. They are tropical fish but are adaptable and can survive
in a regular fishbowl. They can even breathe air as well as oxygen from the
water.

As my grandson pressed his nose against the glass, one fish swam up to the
glass as if to kiss him. "It likes me!" he squealed.

Soon he came running home waving a plastic baggy full of water with a small
red fish inside. "Look, Grandma, I have a fish! Its name is America." I didn
’t even ask about the name, since I knew already knew it had nothing to do
with the alphabet.

We put the fish in the fishbowl, but it didn’t seem happy. Why? Well, I don’
t know why. It wouldn’t swim around and refused to eat. Maybe it is just
adjusting to new surroundings, we hoped. Now that we had a living creature
to care for, we felt responsible for it’s happiness.

Time to look up the preferred lifestyle of a Betta fish, I thought, going to
my computer. To start with, we had filled its bowl with tap water. Wrong!
Tap water has chlorine. Fish hate chlorine. "Buy bottled drinking water for
your fish," advised the article. The fish gets Evian?

Then we found out the fish needed a larger bowl, "at least one gallon of
water per fish," advised the article. So, it was back to the pet store for a
jug of water and a larger fishbowl, one with a lid, "So that Little Cat does
not decide to have sushi," explained my grandson.

While there, he also discovered another type of fish food - dried worms.
Yuck! The fish loved the new food, however, and slurped it down, being
famished after his hunger strike. American was much more content in the
large bowl with the drinking water and a full stomach. He swam around
gracefully, looking quite attractive with his large delicate fins.

The next day my daughter called me at work. "Something is wrong with
America."

"What do you mean?" I asked, visualizing him floating on top of the water or
jumping out of the fishbowl.

"He’s blowing bubbles," she said.

Good grief! He’s a fish. That’s what fish do!

Unlike other fish who are not even aware that you are alive, Betta’s blow
bubbles, swim up to the side of the bowl to greet you, swim gracefully
showing off their colorful fins, and will even eat food from your fingers if
you hold it close enough to the water.

Who would ever think that a fish could be so cute?

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

----------

Have a great week!  It is okay to forward this column to friends as long as
you include my name and copyright notice.  Please do not republish or use it
in any public way without getting my permission first.

Thanks and have a good week!

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Hello! It's another weekend already!

With all the excitement surrounding Corvette lately, I thought I'd write
another fun article about it.  They are starting to call me the queen of
email forwards, meaning that stuff that gets forwarded all over the
internet.  One of these days, I must settle down and write a real
article - in the meantime, however:

---

Are You Ready for a Red Corvette?

(Take the True/False Quiz and Determine Your Level of Readiness)


T F  Life in the fast lane is the only way to travel.

T F  My driver's license has no points against it - yet.

T F  I can tolerate the wind in my face and the highway patrol on my
rear end.

T F  The speed limit should be raised to 180 m.p.h.

T F  Being an adult is no reason to stop playing with hot wheels.

T F  I like the idea of having no back seat drivers.

T F  I like getting yelled at, whistled at, waved at and honked at.

T F  I like it even better if I haven't left my coffee cup on the roof.

T F  I refuse to park where my doors might get pinged.

T F  I frequently practice "creative parking".

T F  The roar of the motor sounds better than the radio.

T F  Low bucket seats don't give me leg cramps or a backache.

T F  I love planning activities and outings that my car will enjoy.

T F  I'm willing to measure the height of speed bumps to see if I can
get over them.

T F  I'm offended by a challenge from a Porsche.

T F  I'm offended by the mere mention of a Porsche.

T F  When caught speeding, I'm willing to tell a traffic cop "It was
worth it!"

T F  I've bottomed out on a steep driveway without swearing out loud.

T F  I know the meaning of 0-60 in 4.8 or I would like to learn.

T F  I'd be willing to lose my virginity, or my fear of flying in an
automobile.

T F  Time can be measured as BC and AD.(Before Corvette and After Deal)

T F  The generation gap is smaller in a Corvette than any place else on
earth.

T F  I know the only answer to "How you like the Vette".

T F  I love driving an ego car with a vanity license plate.

T F  I'm experiencing a mid life crisis.

* * * * *

23+ True - Mid-life crisis ready to happen. You're speeding in the fast
lane.

15-20 True - You've got The Fever - Kiss your bank account good-bye and
close the generation gap before it's too late.

5-15 True - Senility is closing in. Consider an SUV. Then get out of the
way and eat smoke.

1-5 True - Hopeless - Stick with the old clunker and affordable
insurance rates. Hot cars are not your forte'.

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

Author's Note: This article was written to honor the 50th Anniversary of
the my favorite car, the Chevy Corvette. Since it first rolled off the
assembly line in 1953, it has starred in TV shows, such as "Route 66,"
received mention in songs (Beach Boys, Jan & Dean, Prince) and is
glorified in it's very own museum. It has become a legend as the only
American sports car, with a large following of enthusiastic owners and
fans.

* * * * *

I knew I was forgetting something last week, and sure enough as soon as
I clicked that send key, I remembered.  Usually about the beginning of
May, I ask everyone to let me know when they see the first firefly of
the season.  This year we were all scooped! A lady in McMinn County saw
fireflies on April 13th.  She even dragged her husband out in the yard
as a witness. I tell you, these critters are hardy this year. You can
read her email on my website.  There's a link on the front page.

I've found links to my articles posted on bulletin boards in a number of
places.  Posting links is perfectly okay, by the way, it's only when the
entire article is posted that I get bent out of shape.  Hits on my
website doubled last week and I've had a number of emails from new
readers.  You guys are the greatest!  Keep on passing the word around.

By the way, if you got all the questions on today's quiz right, you do
NOT win a car.  However, I'll be happy to pass the word to the local
dealer that you're interested.  ;-)

Good Morning!  Once again I'm having a long holiday weekend and a lazy
morning with coffee.

After sending out my newsletter last week, I remembered that it was
almost Easter and posted a link to "Easter Eggs - Grandma's Way" on my
website. This is an old, but popular, holiday column and if you've ever
had the pleasure of dying eggs with children, I'm sure you can relate.

With the war winding down in Iraq, I've managed to squeeze out another
column about it, one of the Murphy's Laws types that I enjoy doing.
Hope you find it amusing:

-----

Murphy's Laws for Looters


If you want to get something for nothing these days, live in Baghdad.

If you don't know what something is, take it anyhow and worry about what
to do with it later.

The more you want a specific item, the greater the probability that
someone will beat you to it.

The bigger the palace, the smaller the inventory of what's left.

If you can't remember where you left your loot, someone else probably
stole it from you.

The junk you ignored while stealing a mattress might be a priceless
artifact.

If you need four tires for your car, you will only be able to steal
three.

Never steal something heavier than you can carry.

If you think you have a lot of loot, you've not yet looked in the
neighbor's back yard.

If anyone tries to stop you, offer him or her half of the loot or a jug
of water.

If you steal a priceless statue, it will probably turn out to be a
likeness of Saddam.

The bigger the chandelier, the harder it is to tie it to the roof of
your car.

The better the office furniture, the more likely that your trunk is
already full of live chickens.

Somebody else always plunders the best stuff first.

Stealing stone tablets from the museum of antiquities is only a good
idea if you don't drop them on your foot.

One looter is a thief, several are a riot, and thousands are a
celebration of Middle Eastern tradition.

If there is nothing left to steal, maybe it is because you've already
taken everything.

If you have trouble toppling a statue, just get the Marines to help you.

If you can't find it in a government building, break into a hospital or
library.

If you still can't find it, look on Ebay.

There is a direct relationship between average amount of loot taken and
size of an Iraqi wheelbarrow.

Opportunists are people who take advantage of a situation - so are
thieves.

Never forget who is responsible for the chaos; that is something else to
be frustrated about.

You can always find something better to steal, especially if you have an
AK-47 assault rifle.

The better something is secured, the greater the likelihood that it will
be plundered.

No matter how much you have loaded on your donkey, there is always room
for a TV set.

There are two sides to every story - the one told by those that plunder
and the one told by those that watch.

If you stole everything but the kitchen sink, go back and get it.

You will never be able to steal as much as your neighbor.  Your neighbor
will never be able to steal as much as you.

The only thing more accurate than a drug-sniffing dog is a tire-sniffing
Iraqi.

The more valuable the artifact is, the greater the probability that it
will end up in a Paris museum.

No matter what you do, blame it on frustration with an evil regime and
the world will understand.

Looters get away with it.  We don't know how - they just do.

The only emotion more powerful than greed and anger is guilt and fear of
Allah.

If you can't figure out what to do with your loot, return it and say you
are sorry.

If you've already sold it, deny it and say you're innocent, even if you
were seen on American television carrying it away.


Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
--
Humor Columnist.Com
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

-------

The group "Pearl Jam" is in town. They are the ones who while in
concert, impaled a mask of President Bush as a war protest.  Strangely,
no one seems to care, though they still won't listen to records by the
Dixie Chicks. Maybe it's a different crowd, or maybe, as one fan said,
it's because "They've always been political."

You may forward this column in it's entirety, but please do not use it
in a website, newslist, joke list, or other publication without asking
for my permission, even if you include my name on it.

Thanks, have a great holiday and I'll see you next week!

------

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I am please to announce that one of my columns has been newly published by
Voyageur Press in an anthology called "This Old Corvette."  It's a
collection of short stories, essays, photos and artwork celebrating the 50th
Anniversary of my favorite car.  Yes, my story in a hardback cover with
glossy paper, rubbing elbows with editors from "Road & Track," "Car Life,"
the author of the "Corvette Black Book," and that guy from the TV Series
"Route 66."  (Remember the Vette?)  Am I excited, or what?

You can go to Amazon.com or Barnes & Nobel.com and get the book - or you can
read my column "The Ego Car" on my website. (shhhh!) Of course, if you read
it on my website, you will miss out on all the teriffic photos and other
stories.

On to other business.  It's been a historic week, hasn't it?  Are you
watching the war on TV?  Of course you are!  The big question on everyone's
mind is whether Saddam is dead or alive.  If found alive, I assume he would
have to stand trial for war crimes - but the way my mind works, I could only
wonder about what would happen if he were free.  Where would he get a job?
Who would hire a guy like Hussein?

----------

EMPLOYMENT APPLICATION

NAME:   Saddam Hussein

ADDRESS: Any of 20 palaces left standing in Baghdad. If you are unable to
reach me, please contact me in the bunker underneath Tikrit, Iraq.

SEX: Two wives and 7 virgins in training, which makes me a very lucky man or
a very foolish one. Oh ... you meant male or female, didn’t you?

DESIRED POSITION: Responsible position as Management Consultant to CEO
wishing to eliminate competition forever, or (2) Political Advisor in the
area of seizing and using power, or (3) TV Talk Show Host with potential for
vast, curious audience who want to see what makes me tick.

EDUCATION: Cairo University and Founder of International Terrorist School

LAST POSITION HELD:   Dictator of Middle Eastern Nation the size of
California

PREVIOUS SALARY:  All I could steal from the national treasury and turn into
my own personal fortune, as well as royalties from oil production profits.

EXPECTED SALARY: Will work for food.

MOST NOTABLE ACHIEVEMENT:   Accumulating weapons of mass destruction,
stockpiling of chemical and biological weapons.

REASON FOR LEAVING:  Downsizing of government due to assault on Baghdad and
resulting overthrown of my terrorist regime - although we still officially
deny that Baghdad is occupied.

HOURS: I sleep varied hours and short periods of time due to fear of
assignation.

WILLING TO RELOCATE? Yes, any place without bombs falling or an army of
occupation.

SPECIAL SKILLS?   Brutality and murder specialist with experience in
international terrorism. Explosives and weapons management skills, also
experienced public speaker and accomplished liar.

PUBLICATIONS: I have authored a number of books under the pen name
"Anonymous." My new book is currently in production and expected to be a
best seller. I am presently negotiating rights for a screen play and
television mini-series.

SPECIAL HONORS? Numerous art works and statues of my likeness created for
public display. In addition, I have also awarded myself numerous shiny
military metals to wear on my uniforms.

MAY WE CONTACT YOUR CURRENT EMPLOYER?   Regime is no long in business;
however, you are welcome to contact the members of my military guard who
fled the country and question them at gunpoint.

HAVE YOU EVER BEEN CONVICTED OF A FELONY?   Who would convict me?  Anyone
who has opposed me was branded a traitor and executed. If they want to
prosecute me for war crimes, they will have to find me first.

DO YOU HAVE ANY PHYSICAL OR HEALTH PROBLEMS: Slipped disk; however, I swim
and exercise regularly to stay fit. If necessary, I can intimidate someone
else into doing anything physical for me.

DO YOU HAVE DRIVER'S LICENSE?   No, I have a driver. I also had an airport
before enemies captured it, and I own a number of swift camels.

SPECIAL AWARDS OR RECOGNITION?   I have been recognized as one of the
cruelest tyrants of modern times.

TOBACCO USE:   I smoke only fine Cuban cigars to celebrate the death of
those who dare oppose me.

OCCUPATIONAL OBJECTIVE: I would like to return to politics, eliminate the
aggressive infidel Americans, and resume rightful leadership and domination
of the Arab world. First, however, I must have a plan to continue breathing.

DO YOU CERTIFY THAT THE ABOVE IS TRUE AND COMPLETE TO THE BEST OF YOUR
KNOWLEDGE?

So long as we both shall live, so help me Allah! Do you think I would lie?

REFERENCES:

Osama bin Laden, Fidel Castro, Mohammed Saeed al-Sahhaf


Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

------------


You can forward this one to a friend or two.  I've already resorted myself
to the fact that it will probably be stolen.  However, I will catch the
thieves and plaster them with sand and camel dung, so you do not wish to be
the one who violates my copyright by posting it on a newsgroup or sneaking
it into your email joke list.  I have friends and we monitor the entire
internet.- okay, we try.

Take care; have a great week!

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Good morning!  I've penned yet another satire about war today.  War has
certainly has created some riveting television, as well as inspiration for
writers. Some of my fellow writers have elected to totally ignore the war
and write about other topics.  For me, it is difficult to ignore something
that is so broad in scope and so overwhelming.

---------

A War of Cliché’s


We will win the war on terrorism!

Sir, yes, sir!

You know why we are going to win? Because we’ve got the right stuff!

Sir, yes, sir!

We are the few, the proud, the Marines!

Sir, yes, sir!

We will shoot the enemy before he shoots us!

Sir, yes, sir!

No one becomes a Marine because it’s easy!

Sir, yes, sir!

We serve a great and just cause!

Sir, yes, sir!

We will never surrender as long as we have the means to resist!

Sir, yes, sir!

We are the mightiest fighting force the world has every seen!

Sir, yes, sir!

We have better weapons, better intelligence, better training!

Sir, yes, sir!

What we’ve begun – we will finish!

Sir, yes, sir!

Obey orders and ask questions later!

Sir, yes, sir!

Your rifle is your best friend. It is your life!

Sir, yes, sir!

The enemy is no match for our superior forces!

Sir, yes, sir!

We have bombs, tanks, planes, helicopters, and missiles!

Sir, yes, sir!

We will intercept and destroy anything sent against us!

Sir, yes, sir!

We will not stop until Iraq is free!

Sir, yes, sir!

We will be here as long as it takes to win!

Sir, yes, sir!

We will not be intimidated by threats!

Sir, yes, sir!

We will cross the river when we get there!

Sir, yes, sir!

We will press on until the Iraqis are free.

Sir, yes, sir!

Our objective is to free the Iraqi people!

Sir, yes, sir!

Our destination is Baghdad.

Sir, yes, sir!

The days of a brutal regime are coming to an end.

Sir, yes, sir!

We will accept nothing less than complete and final victory!

Sir, yes, sir!

Any questions, men?

Sir, yes, sir!

After all I’ve told you about respecting authority? You still have a
question?

Sir, yes, sir!

Okay, what is it then? What have you got to say?

Sir, Baghdad has already been taken! Sir, we are not here to fight.
We are just here to pass out water and food rations!


Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

------------

If you like this sort of humor, I invite you to visit my website this week
where an all  new parody is posted called "A War Correspondent's Creed".  It
is a parody of the infamous Creed of a Marine called "This is My Rifle."
http://www.humorcolumnist.com/creed.htm

Feel free to forward this newsletter to a friend or two, but please do not
publish, post on newslists, websites, or any public place without permission
of the author.  (That's me!)  I get especially nervous about the list-type
columns as those seem to be the sort that are "borrowed."

One last word -  Humor, especially satire and parody, can be offensive to
some individuals.  Yet, humor is a way to express a viewpoint in a way that
makes a point which might not otherwise be obvious.  I'm always open to
other opinions and maintain a public guestbook and a form on my website for
feedback.

Thanks again for putting up with me.  Maybe I won't have this war to write
about much longer.  This is one time I would gladly give up a source of
inspiration.

---------------

Subscribe to  HumorColumnist
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Greetings once again!  Welcome to our new members and glad you've joined
us.  I'm still writing about the war.  With war consuming the news, it
is hard to think about much else.

Some say that war is not an appropriate topic for humor, while others
feel that no topic is sacred when it comes to comedy.  Humor can be a
way of relieving tension and stress or it can be used as a form of
criticism in the tradition of classic humor, such as the TV program
MASH, which satirized war.

-----------

Baghdad Natalie and the Dixie Chickens

NASHVILLE, TN - Americans were enraged when Baghdad Natalie of the top
rated country music group, the Dixie Chickens, recently made an anti-war
comment to a sympathetic foreign concert audience, saying that she was
ashamed that the President of the United States is from her home state
of Texas.

This was severe blow to the administration and supporters of the war who
had hoped to receive the endorsement of the Dixie Chickens due to their
large political following. Without the wholehearted support of the
country music industry, it is feared that American troops will have an
insufficient number of patriotic, red, white and blue country songs to
appropriately inspire them for battle.

Enraged fans have burned their Dixie Chicken concert tickets in protest
and are using the group's CD's for playing Frisbee instead of the
formerly popular AOL disks. AOL has held the lead in the "free Frisbee"
market for some time with their disk giveaway program. Using a purchase
CD for a Frisbee is totally unprecedented.

In an exclusive interview, a radio station in Iraq questioned Saddam
about Baghdad Natalie's comment from his bombproof bunker underneath his
lavish palace.

"Baghdad who?" replied Saddam.

"She's an American singer."

"Is she a virgin?" asked Saddam. "It's hard to find a virgin these days
and with the American troops coming into Baghdad, it will probably soon
be impossible."

Americans were immediately offended by the implication that the American
military would ravage virgins, which would be a direct violation of the
rules of war established at the Geneva Convention, which are closely
adhered to by Saddam Hussein and his Iraqi followers when judging
behavior of other countries.

When Baghdad Natalie was questioned about her controversial comment, she
sobbed, "I have sinned, but I didn't mean it!" twirling a lock of blond
hair in remorse.

Baghdad Natalie is considered the most likely successor to the anti-war
protest position formerly held by the legendary Hanoi Jane, an American
movie actress who achieved fame for protesting during the Vietnam War
era. As a singer, Baghdad Natalie is expected to write and perform her
own war protest songs with guitar backup provided by the Dixie Chickens.
She denies that money played any part in her anti-war stance, however.

It is a widely held belief that entertainers are political experts since
they frequently express their own personal opinions publicly, whether
they are informed on the issues or not. Stars opinions are highly
regarded by everyone except members of the military community, who think
they are full of hot air. Many entertainers, however, have successfully
changed careers and moved into the arena of public office.

"Do you plan to run for political office?" supporters have asked Baghdad
Natalie.

"Look! I said I was sorry. I was only trying to please an anti-American
crowd. Surely that's understandable."

"So, how do we know if you are really sorry, or if you are just trying
to please a pro-American crowd since your comment backfired?" quizzed
her former supporters.

The other members of the Dixie Chickens group have refused to comment or
take a stand on the incident. It has been privately suggested that
Baghdad Natalie made the comment at the suggestion of a publicist, as
she is not smart enough to have a political opinion herself. This has
been disputed by the spokesperson for the group, also a blond.

Traditionally conservative and patriotic, country music fans are happy
to have a way to show support for American troops by boycotting radio
stations that play records by the Dixie Chickens. Although it is claimed
that sales of their new album have not been affected by the incident,
the Chickens have remained out of the country. Allegedly they are afraid
to return and face hostile country music fans, many of which are known
to have pickup trucks with gun racks, and to be pro-American
sympathizers.


Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

-------


For more war humor, check out
http://www.thenetwits.com/member/war.shtml  Warning: Humor from this
site may not be suitable for children.  Some of the articles of this
group are being forwarded by email to loved ones in the military in
Iraq. Yes, they have a sense of humor and access to computers in some
instances.

Where I work, we keep a list of employees and family members of
employees who have been called up or sent to the Middle East.  It seems
to grow longer each week.  Something about seeing the names and
relationships makes it more personal.

Take care this week. Pray for those involved in the conflict. See you
next week, God willing.

It’s been difficult to think humorously this week with world events being
what they are. Though my inclination was simply not to write at all, people
need humor in times of tragedy. I could not think on other topics, so I hope
you can appreciate satire.

--------

The Other War in Baghdad

Excuse me, beloved Glorious Leader, but why can you never sleep in the same
bed twice? Do you realize how many sheets you dirty moving from one place to
another? We can never get the laundry caught up. I don’t know how you can
sleep with all that noise outside anyhow.

And while we are on the subject, do you have to get up at three o’clock in
the morning to go swimming? Every morning, waking up the whole household. It
’s enough to make me crazy. And you never turn off the fountains in the pool
when you are finished with your swim. Drip, drip, drip! I can’t get a wink
of sleep.

So, your back hurts from your slipped disk? You are an old man; you are
supposed to have a few aches and pains. All this physical fitness stuff! Who
do you think you are, Richard Simmons? You think you must stay fit to
project an image of strength? Get a video, for Allah’s sake, and work out.
Cleaning the pool constantly is wearing everyone out!

I might as well tell you the hair and mustache dye is really getting to be a
problem too. Can you never clean up anything? Try using your glasses and see
what a mess you are making! Why don’t you get one of those fancy laser
surgeries? No one will know. You can always just kill the doctor afterwards
and say he was an enemy of the state.

By the way, Glorious Leader husband, the tailor is coming again today with
another dozen custom-made suits. Where will we put them? All the closets are
full. You spend a fortune on tailored suits and fancy uniforms, and all I
have to wear is the same old cloak and veil. Why can’t I have some cute
little dresses? I want to go shopping in London or New York like I used to
before you became an international tyrant.

And why do we have to fix three meals a day at all of the palaces? Think of
the leftovers! I know you eat very little, as you are worried about being
poisoned, but I’m starting to spread out in the middle. Soon you will want
to get rid of me, I suppose, and get a young trophy wife like all the other
rich leaders.

Speaking of the palaces, don’t you think that twenty palaces is a bit much,
even for the Direct Descendant of the Prophet? I can’t remember which palace
I’m supposed to go to next! I really would like to get out and about more in
Baghdad, but all I get to do is sit home and stare at the 400 walls!

All you do is work like a workaholic. I don’t even know which office you
have selected for the day. Reports, reports, reports! You know, that they
are full of lies and deceit. Why do you insist on spending so much time at
the office reading them? It isn’t as if we need the money.

And when you are not working, you are watching TV. Don’t you get sick of TV?
You have worn out the new remote control already changing from one news
station to another. And all these foreign intrigue movies you watch! I hate
being reminded of conspiracy and assignation. Couldn’t we watch a nice love
story or a comedy show part of the time?

Speaking of love, all the romance has gone out of our relationship since you
became a dictator. We used to talk and share. Now I’m only supposed to
listen? After forty years and five children, you could at least listen to
me. I’ve heard all these rumors about your mistresses and how you are
sleeping with virgins. I’m beginning to believe them myself.

We can’t take a decent vacation, we can’t have friends over, we never get
out to meet new people, and the kids have gone wild. We are shut off from
the world and those around us say only what we wish to hear. We are
practically in isolation. I want to travel and see the world. We are not
getting any younger, you know.

Maybe getting out of the country was not such a bad idea, precious Anointed
One. We could go some place where we don’t have to worry about the food
being poisoned and the palace being bombed. But, no, you wouldn’t get out
when we had the chance!

These missiles flying around everywhere are starting to get on my nerves big
time! The bodyguards are tracking sand all over the house, and the dust
being stirred up by the air raids is bothering my sinuses.

What do you mean, I’m a nag? I suppose you are going to blame ME for all
your problems instead of America? I stand by my man all these years and that
’s the thanks I get? If it wasn’t for my love of the children and the oil
wells, I’d leave you!


Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

-------

The good thing about political humor is it rapidly becomes dated, therefore,
I don’t have to worry as much about the copyright violation issue. Feel free
to forward this to friends, but ask permission for any other use.

To Subscribe:  subscribe-humorcolumnist@yahoogroups.com

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St. Pat's Day is just around the corner.  I didn't write a St. Patrick's
column this year; however, the NetWits went green in honor of the
occasion.  You can read one of the greenest columns I've ever written
at: http://www.thenetwits.com/member/sheila.shtml

In other news, I've been busy exchanging links with other humor sites.
Check out the links page on my website for some great stuff.  Be sure
not to miss http://www.faxtoons.com which is choked full of funny stuff,
including one of my recent columns.
http://opinion.faxtoons.com/opinion/used_car_deal.php

My partner, who will be remembered from the Big Screen TV column, had
surgery this week, which put me in a medical mode.  How could I write
about anything else?

------------------


RX: Operation


There are times in life when you suspect the body has betrayed you and
those nagging little questions start running through your head. Could it
be that you are really sick? Surely you won't need surgery! You've never
been sick a day in your life - before:

Has that nagging little discomfort turned into a ragged throb?

Did your co-workers ask if you are feeling okay?

Did the doctor's office call YOU to set up an appointment?

Has the doctor suggested you have some "tests"?

Did you suddenly remember that you have test anxiety?

Did you have to retake your test because you flunked it the first time?

Are you so nervous that you bit the thermometer in half?

Did your urine specimen look pink?

Did the doctor tell you not to worry, because you won't feel a thing?

Did the receptionist give you literature and say, "Better read this!"?

Did they ask you a lot of strange questions about your insurance
coverage?

Does the pharmacist now know you by your first name?

Does it seem that everyone knows someone who had an operation for
symptoms similar to yours?

Have you finally admitted that aspirin hasn't cured it?

Did your spouse buy you two new pairs of pajamas?

Do you have a sudden compulsion to make a will?

Did you search the Internet, but couldn't find your symptoms?

Or, even worse, did you find your problem and learn that it can be
serious?

Did the doctor say you wouldn't be on crutches long?

If someone says, "How are you?" Are you afraid to tell the truth?

Do you go to sleep, only to dream about Nurse Hatchet?

Did anyone tell you not to worry and now you are worried?

Did you get pre certified but don't remember applying?

Does it only hurt if you breathe?

Did the doctor use big words that your can't remember?

Did you get a second, opinion? A third, forth and fifth?

Did you decide to go, but only if you don't have to wear a hospital
gown?

Is your doctor starting to look just like Dracula?

Can you remember why you need surgery?

Can you remember your name?

Did you feel fine until you went to the doctor?

Do you wish they would hurry up and get it over with?

Are you only cautious - not afraid?


Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

-----------------------------

A gentle reminder not needed by my regular readers, but only the public
at large. Please do not republish this or any column without author
permission, including print publication, public performance of content,
posting on websites and posting on lists or in newsgroups.

A special nod to Freelists.com, for immediately removing one of my
columns posted by a user in violation of copyright law.

You have permission to forward this newsletter to a friend or two if you
include copyright notice and a link to my website.

Outside he buttercups are blooming and the redbirds fluttering in
Tennessee.  Enjoy spring and have a great week!

---

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--

I'm up early this morning, not because I want to be, but because I woke
up and then couldn't go back to sleep. Don't you just hate that on a
Saturday?

We have a number of new folks present. Scoot to the center so they don't
have to climb over you. I won't make them stand up and be introduced,
but if you see a new face be sure to shake hands after the column.

In other news, traffic continues to be high on my website. We are moving
up in the search engine ranks, which you probably don't give a twit
about, but search engine ranking is the life giving force to a
webmaster.

Of course, word of mouth is still the best way to get readers, and you
guys are doing a great job of passing the word.

--------------------

Pizza, Pizza

I'm really happy that I now live in civilization. I used to live on the
edge of civilization until urban sprawl caught up and I was absorbed. My
definition of civilization is being within a pizza restaurant's delivery
zone. Not being able to order pizza and get it delivered is a genuine
hardship, comparable only to no water, no microwave, no cable, or no
cell phone.

Friday night is pizza night at my house. Before we became civilized, we
relented ourselves to ordering carryout and picking it up ourselves. Not
the same at all as it was always cold by the time we got home and the
cheese had turned to chewy leather that would have been perfect for
making belts, wallets, or moccasins except for the chopped onions.

On pizza night the first problem is always what kind of pizza to order.
Roll call shows that I don't care as long as it doesn't have black
olives. My significant other doesn't care as long as it doesn't have any
meat. My daughter doesn't care as long as it has pepperoni. My grandson
doesn't care because he takes everything off and eats only the bread
anyhow. The dog doesn't care because he will eat anything that remotely
resembles food.

As you can see, we already have a problem. Nobody cares but everybody
wants something different. Disregarding the dog's vote, as he is not a
certified voter, we've pretty much got it down to a large combination
and a large mushroom and onion two-topper.

I really hate calling in the order. They always put me on hold until I
forget what I want, and then talk in fast-forward mode while taking the
order. I'm positive they are making pizza with one hand and taking
orders with the other. I fare better with ordering pizza online, no
pressure to hurry and decide between thin crust, hand-tossed and pan
pizza.

"Is the pizza coming?" squeals my four-year-old grandson, so excited he
is climbing on the backs of the furniture like a squirrel and turning
flip-flops in the living room.

My daughter switches on the porch light and opens the door, so the
delivery person can find the house. My grandson presses his nose against
the glass storm door and peers into the darkness, straining to see if
the car with the pizza flag is coming up the driveway.

"Where are they, grandma? Maybe they got lost!"

"No, honey, they never get lost - they will be here."

The phone rings. It's the pizza guy. "Now where exactly is your street?"
he asks. I don't believe it - he is lost! I explain the location and he
remembers, or says he does.

A knock on the door and the dog is barking and knocking over furniture
as he runs to the door, attempting to decide whether to eat the pizza
first or the pizza delivery guy.

Pizza! At last! The cheese and other toppings come off of a piece for my
grandson. The dog wags his tail frantically as he knows who is going to
get that leftover cheese.

I select a slice of the combination pizza, which looks pretty good after
I pick off the black olives that I forgot to tell them to omit.
Jalapenos! I forgot about jalapenos, Flames shoot out of my mouth and
singe the dog's fur. Mamma mia, those peppers are hot! I nearly do a few
flip-flops myself before finally quenching the fire with a diet cola.

"This is the best pizza in the whole world!" proclaims my grandson as he
chews on his second hunk of pizza flavored bread, while the dog stands
by, waiting for the child to lay it down for a moment so he can grab it
and run under the bed.

As I clean up the spilled dipping sauce, drag pizza out from under the
bed, throw out the giant boxes that are too big to fit in the trash can,
and check out the blisters in my mouth, I sort of wonder if civilization
is such a great thing after all.

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

---------------------------------


Now for my customary copyright rant: My regular readers skip over it as
it's only those other guys we have to worry about anyhow.

You may forward this column to a friend or two with my blessings.
Posting on mailing lists, websites, putting it in print, or using in any
public way is a violation of copyright law unless you have permission.

Thanks for your continued support.  The regular readers keep me going
and I always look forward to Saturday mornings.

Have a great week - unless you also are a humor columnist - in which
case have a lousy week so you will have something funny to write about.


TO SEND COMMENTS: Reply to this email.

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Greetings newsletter readers.  The month of February is finally over and
what a month it has been.  Winter just doesn't seem to want to let go this
year.  Anyhow, my grandson is breathing down my back this morning, wanting
to play computer games, and my computer driver crashed last night and still
isn't acting just right, so let's get on with the show so I can get off of
here and call computer support.

If you've not yet checked out my guest columnists, be sure to go to my
website and do so.  They are some funny writers and great ladies besides.
In case you don't make it, here's my rendering of the week:

-------------------------------------

The Big Screen Dream Machine

My honey has a new toy. It’s the ultimate, all time, masculine,
state-of-the-art dream machine – a big screen TV.

It started when the old TV began to fade and lose the color once in a while.
There was really nothing wrong with it. All you needed to do was turn it off
and back on and it worked as good as new. It probably had another year of
two of life.

But pushing remote control buttons off and on was too much exercise for my
honey. Beside, it was "an excuse" for him to go to the electronics store and
check out the new stuff. I wouldn’t go with him. We didn’t need anything
from the electronics store as far as I was concerned. We already have so
many gadgets that we can’t figure out which remote control goes to what.

He came home with that I’ve-been-brainwashed-by-a-salesman look on his face.
"How would you like to have a TV that hangs on the wall?"

"NO!" I screamed. I thought that was the end of it. I couldn’t understand
why he blatantly insisted on going back to the electronic store again.
Probably wants to give the salesman the bad news in person, I surmised.

Then IT came. IT was half as big as the house. "Good grief! That won’t even
fit through the door!" Not to worry, the delivery guys have a shoehorn and
Vaseline to squeeze it though the door, if needed.
As they wheeled it in, the floor buckled and furniture slid to the center of
the room. I watched as the cat disappeared. Grabbing a toppling lamp and
holding to the doorframe to avoid slipping into the void, I gasped, "My
gosh! That’s the biggest TV I’ve ever seen!"

"But, you said that you didn’t want the kind that hangs on the wall. This is
the other one." Male logic, I’ll never understand it.

"I don’t suppose you would consider returning it," I asked. I need not have
bothered asking.

Honey was in a man’s world; testosterone had numbed the brain and he was too
busy figuring out the buttons on the new remote control to even hear me. He
muttered something about having given away the old one already. Men cover
their bases, don’t they?

Besides having a screen big enough to make a stadium scoreboard jealous, IT
has speakers - lots of speakers, front speakers, rear speakers, rattle the
windows speakers, shake the roof speakers, and vibrate your eardrums
speakers.

"Where are you going to put all those speakers," I foolishly asked.

"Oh, I’ll just hang them from the wall," he said. Of course, silly me, just
hang them from the wall. I envisioned all the ugly holes this was going make
in my wall and shuttered.

"I think I have some old speakers up in the attic. Maybe I can hook them up
too," he speculated.
"Please, NO!" I threw myself in front of the attic door and threatened
bodily harm if he even thought about going upstairs. Any more speakers and
the house would explode.

We have now put up shelves behind IT to hold all the mysterious black boxes
that came with the package: tuner, speakers, subwoofer, DVD and tape
players. We have wires running crisscross to speakers on the walls. I feel
as if I have died and gone to e-hell.

Watching IT is like setting on the front row at the movies. My eyes water as
a bigger than life police car chases bigger than life bad guys across the
screen. It’s a woman’s worst nightmare and a man’s biggest daydream all in
one massive manifestation of media.

I watch the walls buckle and ride the shock waves, holding tightly to my
sanity as the curtains shred and wallpaper peels.

"Can you turn off some of the speakers?" I scream.

"I’ll need to go to the electronics store first for more cable."

"You’d better come back with a cable and nothing else," I shout, as I
envision him in a hypnotic trace, seduced by electronic gadgets that force
themselves upon him with easy payment plans.

So, my honey owns a big screen TV - and IT owns my honey. Wonder how long it
will be before they come out with something bigger and better and IT will
become obsolete? Not soon enough, I’m sure.

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

--------------------------------

Hits are way up on my website as well as incoming email.  Thanks for your
support.  Keep up the good work and passing the word around.

Subscribe to  HumorColumnist
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Good morning and welcome to my weekly newsletter.

I have a bunch of excitement going on at my website.  Not one, but FOUR of
my funniest lady writing friends have joined me to help kick off my new
website.  Am I lucky, or what?  Here's the line up:

Angela Gillaspie, a southern humorist and good chum tells all about banana
pudding.  And she didn't even mention bacon grease.  It made me so hungry
I've had to make two since reading about it.
http://www.humorcolumnist.com/angela.htm

Carole Moore, The Humor Writer, is a seasoned and profession writer of 20
years.  She tells all about the trials and tribulations of smoking.  You'll
love her work.  http://www.humorcolumnist.com/carole.htm

Lynette is Funny, a writer from the west coast who doesn't have a last name,
but really IS funny.  A relatively new writer on the net, she is knocking
'em dead already, reading her family humor on the local radio.
http://www.humorcolumnist.com/lynette.htm

Kristen Twedt, is another blond southern lady and pro.  Her humor column
appears in the Sunday newspaper in Hattiesburg, Mississippi.  It's good
enough to make a Yankee want grits.
http://www.humorcolumnist.com/kristen.htm

Can you believe they are all on my site for the whole next month?  That
gives you plenty of time, so be sure and go there and read their stuff.
Links are on my front page, plus, they each and every one have a website of
their own where you can read more. That should give you northern folk
something to do when you are not busy shoveling snow.

By the way, I forgot to mention that I've got a new one out too.  Less you
miss it while sipping coffee with my friends, here 'tis:

-------------------------------------------

Closet Gourmet

My adult daughter has taken over the kitchen at my house. I don’t know
why, - unless she was tired of eating frozen dinners. Actually, I was
getting a bit tired of them myself, so I didn’t object too much, though I
was secretly a bit worried about what sort of dinners she might cook.

Day one: Beef stew and biscuit. Right, I thought, it probably will taste
like dog food and kibble. Amazingly, it was pretty good. We lapped it down
without asking many questions and waited for the second day.

Day two: Turkey and dressing. Turkey and it isn’t even Thanksgiving? She
must have spent all day doing this. Well, I have to work and don’t have time
for roasting turkeys and tossing bread cubes. We ate it up and praised her
cooking skills.

Day three: Chicken and dumplings. Ugh! I remember how my mother made
dumplings, all soggy and gooey. That’s why I never bother with them. But
these dumplings were light, fluffy and delicious. This kid can cook I
decided, wondering where she got the recipe. Not from her grandma, that’s
for sure.

Day four: Southwest chili and cornbread. This can’t possibly be good, I
figured. How would she know how to make chili? That’s a specialty item.
Where is she getting all the groceries, anyhow? I was starting to suspect
that she was harboring a chef, hiding him in the attic and bringing him out
only during the day while I was working.

Day five: Chicken Casserole. Tender cubes of chicken, lightly floating in a
creamy sauce with a medley of vegetables and a crumb topping. This can’t go
on. If I didn’t recognize my own casserole dish, I would swear that she was
sneaking in food from a restaurant. But as long as I’m not buying, I might
as well eat and enjoy.

Day six. Okay, today is the day I find out what’s going on around here. I’m
green with envy at the culinary delights that have been parading through my
kitchen. But she made spaghetti today. Pretty much anyone can cook spaghetti
with a simple meat sauce. Yes, it was good, but what’s going on during the
days when I’m not at home?

Day seven: Sneaked into the kitchen at night with a flashlight. Opened the
cabinet and discovered the secret at last. A row of red boxes cleverly
called complete classic dinners. So that’s the secret! Cans of vegetables,
sauces, envelopes of breadcrumbs and spices all packaged up in the same box.
They even include the meat! No slaving over the hot stove. No worrying about
putting elusive ingredients together. It’s all packaged and ready to cook.

Well, that’s cheating! She didn’t do any work at all!

So, am I going to let her know that I’ve been nosey and found out the secret
to the delectable exhibition of cuisine? Heck, no! She might stop cooking. I
sure don’t want to go back to those tasteless frozen dinners or the long,
tiring process of cooking a meal after a hard day’s work. Some things are
best left alone. Besides, one of those boxes said, "Chicken Pot Pie". That’s
my favorite.

So, I set the table, offer to do the dishes, give her a gift certificate for
groceries, buy her a new set of pots and throw in money for a new apron
while she’s out shopping anyhow. Then I retire to my computer while
mysterious clinking sounds come from the direction of the kitchen and
delicious odors float down the hall.

What do I care where the food is coming from? The main thing is I don’t have
to cook it!

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

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Good morning! I'm having trouble getting my newsletter out this morning
as my mail program keeps crashing.  I've heard that the last critical
update from Microsoft causes this.  I thought it was an urban legend,
but now I'm starting to believe.  Anyhow, I've resorted to Netscape and
so far so good.

Last week I was talking to a co-worker about the bad day I'd had
previously.  She looked at me and said, "Write a column."  I think she
just didn't want to be bothered.  Anyhow, I took her up on it and here
is the result.  I just had to tell someone.

-----------------------

Going Crazy

There's a crazy woman loose who is an accident waiting to happen and a
menace to society. Sadly, I must report that I am that crazy woman.
It's  true; I've departed my senses and am waiting for the men with the
big butterfly net to knock on my door at any moment. It really isn't my
fault, you see.

It all started the other day when I needed to go to the drugstore to
pick up a prescription. I didn't really want to go to the drug store,
but you know how it is when you run out of your medicine and need it.
Nothing to be done, but go get it, regardless of whether I want to or
not.

I hopped in the car, backed out of the garage and heard a sickening
thud.  I had run smack into my daughter's new car that was parked in the
driveway. I forgot she had a car. Fortunately, it only chipped the paint
off the bumper in a couple of places and didn't hurt my car at all. That
hardly counts at all, I thought, trying not to be upset.

Then I noticed my car was out of gas, bumping empty with the idiot light
flashing. That figures, being the sort of day it was. I had to stop at
the corner station to fill up. The automatic shut off on the gas nozzle
failed to work and the gasoline spilled over, getting all over my car
and the ground.

I used the windshield washer bucket to wash the gas off my paint as best
I could, and went on about my business. I considered going to the car
wash, but it was cold and I reasoned that the water could freeze on my
car or the doors might even freeze shut.

While I was doing all this thinking, I missed the entrance ramp to the
interstate, which is the closest way to the drugstore. By then, I
realized things were not going extremely well, but I could go another
way instead. The trouble with the other way is there is a bad left turn,
which I expertly accomplished, being extra careful. One wreck in a day
is enough.

After leaving the drugstore safely, I decided to run by the bank and use
the ATM since I had put all my extra cash in the gas tank, or should I
say on the ground?  Regardless, I missed my turn for the second time of
the evening and again had to take an alternate route. Believe it or not,
the ATM machine functioned perfectly when I got there, and I actually
made it home without further incident.

I left the door of my attached garage open because of the fumes from the
car where gas had spilled. No point in taking chances the way this day
was going. Naturally, I forgot that the garage door was open and it
stayed open all night long. Not only that, but the back door blew open
from the draft. By the next morning, the house was freezing inside. Why
not with the door wide open all night in the middle of winter?

I think I've regained control of my faculties now, at least I hope so.
I'm just chalking the whole thing up to a bad hair day, a senior moment,
or alien mind control.

So, that's my story. I'm ready now. You can bring in the white jacket
and take me away to my nice warm padded cell. Maybe I won't need shock
treatments. I only hope you have plenty of gas and will try to avoid
hitting the car in the driveway.


Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

----------------------------------

Thanks for the visit and keep on passing the word around about my
column.  The online version of this column can be found on the front
page of my website. I've totally redone my website and hope you will
check it out and let me know what you think. I've just heard that the
Guestbook is broken, but I'll be working on it.

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Here I am in your mailbox again.  The groundhog saw his shadow last week, in
spite of our feeble efforts to chase him down and rid ourselves of the
varmints here in Tennessee.  The bad weather is starting already.  But we
have Valentine's to look forward to, so all is not lost.

Speaking of Valentine, check out my website for the Valentine Articles in
the Archives.  One of them called "To the Complaint Department" is about
Cupid and is one of my most plagiarized articles, so it must be pretty good.
I'll try to remember to put a link to it on the front page so you can find
it easier.

This week's column was a lot of fun.  Some of my friends from The Netwits
suggested a few of the metaphors, which added a lot to the article as well
as to the fun of writing it.

--------------------------------------


The Used Car Deal

My daughter needed a car. I hate, detest, despise, buying cars and haggling
over prices The sleazy salesmen always wear me down and talk me into buying
an overpriced car regardless of whether the payments are affordable or not.

But the fact was, my daughter needed a car. I, of course, am the one with a
down payment and good credit, so I had to become a part of this unsavory
deal. I delayed the inevitable as long as possible with excuses, such as,
"It’s too cold to look for a car today." or "You can make it just one more
week, can’t you?"

My daughter didn’t take the hint. She began to suggest places we might look.
A brand new car was out of the question unless we stopped by the hospital
and got a transfusion for my purse on the way. So, we "compromised". We
decided to buy a former rental car, only a year old, all the extras
included, and best of all NO haggling - the price is the price!

It seemed simple enough. Find a car you can afford. Buy the car.
Unfortunately, the only place we could find selling previously rented cars
was on the other side of the world. After driving for an hour, passing it
twice unbeknown, we finally had to call for directions. Big mistake. They
knew we were coming. Gerald was waiting for us outside when we arrived.

"Are you the folks that called," he asked, rubbing his hands together with
drool practically foaming out of his mouth. We had to admit that we were.
"Let’s discuss your needs," he suggested. What he meant was, "Let’s discuss
your financial abilities."

He went into a prerecorded barrage about how they price their cars at
giveaway prices, wholesale out the dogs, and keep only the best of the fleet
for their sales lot. "We want to make your car buying experience as pleasant
as possible," he said, as if there was any way to sign away half your assets
and have it feel pleasant.

My daughter went into the particular model and features she was looking for.
I interrupted, "Something economical," I said. Gerald got my drift.

"I have several that are just what you want," he purred. "Let’s go out to
the lot and look around. He led us straight to a sporty little gold number.
My daughter’s heart jumped out of her jacket as she totally forgot about
what she used to want. Dollar signs flashed in Gerald’s eyes. We looked
around the lot as Gerald explained the features of other cars that were
available, but my daughter’s eyeballs remained fixated on the gold car.

Finally, we made the enormously difficult decision of buying the first thing
we saw. Back to the office we went to fill out the paper work and see how
anemic my purse was going to be for the next five years or until my daughter
finds a job, whichever comes first.

"I don’t think I came very prepared," I said, looking at the application,
which asked about home ownership, loan balances, and monthly mortgage
payments. Good grief, I thought was buying a car, not a condo. "All we need
is where you work and your salary," Gerald said. "Don’t worry about the rest
of that stuff."

He whisked the paper out from under my pen and sped to the back room, where
I presume the credit bureau was being contacted. He returned after a time
with a smile like a cat that has been dating the canary. "You have great
credit!" The pupils of his eyes flashed digital numbers as he calculated the
commission in his head.

The payments were only about half of what I expected, but I didn’t flinch a
freckle. My daughter was outside in the driver’s seat blowing the horn. We
completed the deal without bloodshed, though it was close when he was
talking me into buying the extended warranty for a mere $20 per month extra.

Finally, we drove out of the parking lot, proud owners of a sporty,
pre-owned, golden chariot, complete with full gas tank, certificate for
emissions check, and promise of an extra set of keys. In the rear view
mirror, I saw Gerald out on the used car lot standing by a silver car and
grinning at a new customer like an alligator who has cornered a wildlife
poacher.


Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

---------------------------------

Thanks once more for putting up with me.  Remember to forward this to all
your car-buying friends.  If you sell cars, I apologize and hope your
commissions will be big ones.  If you want to publish this elsewhere, like
in print or on the Internet in anyplace whatsoever, you must have my
permission in order to comply with copyright law.

I'm working on totally revamping my website, so if you go there and think
you in the wrong place, you're not.  Still a few bugs, so pardon the
construction, but I'm doing the best I can.

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Good morning again and welcome to my weekly attempt to bring a bit of
happiness to the world.  I'm back on schedule, for better or worse, and
clicking away on my new modem.  We've had a steady stream of new visitors
join us. I'm not sure where they are coming from, but usually this means
that I had a mention someplace.  Thanks whoever it is, and you regulars
scoot over and make our new folks welcome.

Our story this week is a bit of office humor.  Someone once asked me why I
didn't write about other occupations as everyone does not work in an office.
True, but, alas, I can only write about what I know.  I hope you can relate
it to an experience of your own.

--------------------------------

The Interview

I read with interest the notice in the office newsletter about a vacancy. I
hadn’t been promoted in years. Although, I already had a great job where I
was chained to a computer and forced to drink black coffee all day, my
career had stagnated. I could work in my sleep, and very often did, in spite
of the stimulation. It was time for a change.

I could hardly contain myself until I could set up an interview. I called
and made an appointment with someone named Barbie who had been there only a
year and had already being promoted to management. She was sure it had
nothing to do with her being related to the CEO.

I visualized myself in my new cubical, doing important tasks on the
computer, handling business efficiently, watering my plants, and all at a
much higher salary. I was beginning to get enthusiastic about how I was
going to spend all that extra money.

I got out the old resume and padded it shamelessly to make my current job
sound responsible. I wanted to make an impression, a very good impression. I
typed it up and dreamed about how great this new job was going to be as I
watched it print.

I figured I needed the perfect outfit to wear for the big day. Somehow I
just had a feeling that Barbie didn’t come to work in a gray flannel suit. I
finally decided to buy something new, a navy blue dress in the new longer
length that was stylish but businesslike. They call it "dressing for
success." It maxed out my credit card, but I figured no sacrifice was too
great when it came to advancing my career.

It took me most of the day, but I tried to think of possible questions that
they might ask and possible answers I might give to emphasize my impressive
profession qualities without giving away any of my shortcomings. No need to
mention the computer files I once accidentally deleted or the time I burned
popcorn in the office microwave, I decided.

I rehearsed a few answers in front of the mirror, which was hard because
being a female, I had to keep stopping to fix my hair. By the time the big
day came, I was pretty nervous. I dropped the toothpaste in the toilet and
nearly stabbed myself in the eye with mascara. By the time I finished,
however, my hair was perfect, my makeup tasteful, and I had on plenty of
deodorant.

It took two motivational tapes to get me out the door, but I finally felt
ready. I showed up right on time, not too early and certainly not too late.
I clenched my teeth and smiled, trying not to be irritated at being kept
waiting while Barbie made an appointment for her hair, nails and aerobic
class.

At last I was ushered in. The interviewer began to drill me with the
expectations of the new job and asked none of the questions that I had
rehearsed. I maintained eye contact and tried hard not to faint until
perhaps later when no one was watching. I wondered how long it would take my
resume to be filed in the paper shredder after I left. When it was finished,
I shook her hand and thanked her for her time, feeling as if the IRS had
audited me.

Back at the old office, I lacked the strength to use my computer mouse, so I
simply stared at the screen saver all afternoon, wondering why I had never
noticed all the pretty colors before. Well, if I don’t get the job at least
I will know why. The CEO probably had another relative.

My greatest fear, however, was not that I might NOT get the job, but that
they might actually offer it to me.

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

--------------------------------

Thanks for bearing with me.  Feel free to forward this to a job hunting
friend, and remember to write for permission if you want to use it
elsewhere, as in print or on a website.  To make comments, simply click on
"reply" and Yahoo will magically forward your email to me.

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Hello, sorry I'm late this week.  My cable connection has been down and I've
been off line for nearly a week.  Imagine, snowed in and no computer!
Anyhow, I did get a bunch of other stuff done. Comcast's technician finally
managed to make it to my house today, so I'm back up and running.

Here, at last, is this week's rendering:

------------------------

Baby, It's Cold Outside

The North Pole seems to have moved south for the winter and here in
Tennessee we are shivering like castaways with hypothermia. Parking lots
have become skating rinks, where we skid into the grocery store to replenish
our emergency stash of bread, milk and toilet paper.

Plumbers are busy thawing out frozen water pipes and are expecting even more
demand for their services when the temperature rises and broken pipes thaw.
Furnace companies and tow truck operators are also doing a booming business.

Having lived in the north where cold weather is a fact of life, I've become
somewhat of an expert at slinging the ice melt on the driveway, looking for
sales on fireplace logs, and watching TV reports about people that have it
worse than I do.

For those less familiar with harsh conditions, here’s a bit of unsolicited
advice gleaned from experience:


HOW TO MANAGE COLD WEATHER

Get out of bed.

Turn up thermostat and get back in bed where it’s warm.

Get out of bed again.

Floor is cold. Look for lost house slippers.

Try to a shower and get ready for work.

Call plumber to come and fix frozen water pipes.

Call boss and leave message on voice mail that you will be late.

Use hair dryer to unfreeze lock on car door.

Call AAA to come and start car.

Drive with one hand at a time. Steering wheel is cold.

Call boss on cell phone and leave message that you are on the way.

Try to control skids on icy street.

Explain to neighbor that you are sorry about hitting the mailbox.

Try to drive through major intersection with malfunctioning frozen red
light.

Sit in a traffic jam for an hour due to numerous accidents on the
Interstate.

Look in rear view mirror and see car skidding toward your rear end.

Exchange driver’s license and insurance information.

Call boss and leave message that you are almost there.

Park car and very carefully walk across frozen parking lot.

Get up. Look to see if anyone saw you fall.

Hope that your wrist is only sprained and not broken.

Find out that boss did not come to work due to the bad weather.

Go to emergency room and have wrist x-rayed.

Go home and call a furnace repair service to check the overworked furnace
that has quit.

Turn on TV and hear prediction for snow and more sub zero temperatures.

Call work and leave boss a message that you feel sick and won’t be in
tomorrow.

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

---------------------------------

Have a great rest of the week.  Now that the Super Bowl is over, the men and
women in your household can become reacquainted.  I don't know about you,
but I've been saving up chores
for my honey since last fall.  See you next week.

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Good morning from the southern refrigerator known as Nashville, Tennessee.
We are freezing!

We get a new Governor today as our former mayor is sworn into state office.
Heads have been rolling as the new political appointees took over and the
old ones got the ax.  Not a pretty sight.  Governor Bredeson declared a
"free" day at local attractions, such as the zoo, the County Music Hall of
Fame, and other tourist spots to celebrate his inaguration.  Great idea,
except the weather is so bad, few will be able to make it.  It even snowed
out the Governor's parade.

This is also the day that the Tennessee Titan's eliminate the last obstacle
between them and the Super Bowl.  Go Titans!

After all was said and done, how could I avoid writing about the weather?

--------------------------------

The White Stuff

It snowed today. It’s January; there’s supposed to be snow in the winter,
isn’t there? That’s the way it always works with the four seasons.

But you don’t understand. It snowed in Nashville. We have seasons here, and
we have snow – sometimes. However, it is a rare event and not often enough
for people to know exactly what to do about it when it happens.

It isn’t as if the snow was unpredicted. Every since last weekend, the
weathermen have been jumping up and down screaming, "SNOW on Thursday." No
one believed them. "Yeah, yeah, you said that last time and it didn’t
happen." Like the people in the proverb of boy that "cried wolf" too often,
we quit believing.

Last night on the news, "SNOW, SNOW, it’s going to snow!" This morning we
got up and looked out the window - no snow. So everyone went to work as
usual, figuring predictions were wrong again, as always.

Then at 9:30 it happened – SNOW started to fall - lots of snow, big
snowflakes, falling fast. Office workers pressed their noses against the
windows, staring in disbelief. SNOW? SNOW!

Almost before people could decide whether to go home, the ground was
covered. It fell rapidly, inches in an hour. Childcare facilities began to
call to say they were closing. The snow continued to fall. Panic! People
started going home. Schools closed. The snow continued to fall, almost in
defiance of our disbelief.

Auto accidents occurred, hundreds of accidents, multi car accidents of the
kind that close down Interstates. Traffic is soon in a gridlock. Kids can’t
get home from school because busses can’t get there to get them. Offices are
nearly empty. State offices close by mid afternoon. Courts close. Shopping
malls close. Remember that this is the south. S-n-o-w spells disaster. The
snow continues to fall.

People in the south don’t have a clue about how to drive in snow. Wheels
spin as they accelerate too fast; then they panic and hit the brakes. After
all, how do you learn to drive in snow? Well, you learn by doing it. And in
a city where snow is a rarity, so is snow driving experience.

The snow continues, wet snow; snow that sticks to everything. It is
beautiful as it clings to the branches of trees and covers everything with a
white blanket. We gaze at the winter scene and wonder how something so
pretty can cause so much alarm.

Some give up and get hotel rooms, deciding it isn’t worth the effort to try
to get home. Others, stranded on the highways, seek shelter at truck stops
along the way, waiting for accidents to be cleared and roads to reopen.

By the time the snow quits falling, seven inches cover the ground, the
biggest snow in many years in Nashville. We remembered snow, but after so
many years without very much, we had closed it out and denied the
possibility. Complacency has now been replaced by reality.

The snow finally has mercy on the defeated city and stops. On the highways,
abandoned cars litter the roadside and ditches. For one who has lived in
Chicago and St. Louis where snow is the norm instead of the exception, the
disaster seems unbelievable. To one who has lived in Nashville and seen snow
in the south before, disaster is expected.

Finally safe at home, we are happy to be out of harm’s way. Buried in white
stuff, we wonder where the snow shovel is and finally decide to wait until
tomorrow and let it melt. Thankfully, snow in Nashville doesn’t happen very
often and seldom lasts very long.

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

---------------------------------

You guys are doing a great job spreading the word about my column.  Keep
forwarding the email to your friends. If you change your email address, be
sure to re register or let me know. Every week we have folks dropping off
the bottom of the list due to bad addresses.

If you have a mailing list, website, or print publication, please contact me
before re publishing any column.  I am happy to work with editors and
webmasters in making reasonable arrangements.

Take care and hope it's warm wherever you are.  See ya next week!

Downtown Nashville will be jumping today with several major events going on
and everyone competing for the same parking spaces.  Titan fever is starting
here already with Pittsburg in to town for the big playoff game this
afternoon.  My honey is from Pittsburg and a big Steelers fan. He and my
Titan-loving son are going to the game together.  Hope they don't get into a
fight!

You'll be relieved to know that I've not written another football column.
Other than sports, there's not much doing and January blahs are starting to
set in.  I've taken an interest in sleep disorders lately, of all things,
and have been reading up, so I thought I'd share what little bit I know with
you - presuming I can stay awake long enough.

------------------

To Sleep or Not to Sleep

Lately I’ve been hearing other people talk a lot about their personal sleep
disorders. I confess I hadn’t really thought much about sleep problems
before. Just show me the bed and I can be cutting Zs in 15 minutes any time
of the day or night. Now, however, I’ve found out that I’m not sleeping the
correct way. I’m supposed to wait until bedtime to sleep so I’ll be tired
and able to go to sleep through the night.

A sleep disorder is when we toss and turn and are unable to fall asleep, I
figured. Everyone knows about drinking warm milk and doing the sheep
counting routine to cure insomnia. Now, however, I’ve found out that
insomnia is only one of many sleep disorders. There are others that are
common, plus some that are not so common.

Insomnia is more than not being able to go to sleep in the first place, it
is also waking up in the night and not being able to get back to sleep.
Heck, that doesn’t seem like a disorder. If it wasn’t for waking up in the
middle of the night with my mind racing, I’d never get my column written.

I decided to take a mini sleep quiz - just to see if I needed to be
concerned about sleep disorders. Can’t be too careful with health. Wish I
hadn’t taken it, though. According to the quiz, I’ve got ‘em all.

First of all, I found that I have sleep apnea. Sleep apnea is when someone
has difficulty breathing and may stop breathing for several seconds many
times a night. Often this is accompanied by snoring. One of the questions on
the quiz was, "Have you ever been told that you snore?" Well, yes, I have. I
’ve never heard myself snore, though, and I don’t really believe that I do.

I also have narcolepsy. This is when someone cannot stay awake, even in
social situations. "Do you ever fall asleep at inappropriate times?" asks
the quiz. "Do you sometimes feel sleepy even when you’ve had enough sleep?"
The true narcoleptic can fall asleep anytime, even at a movie or at a party.
Obviously, writers of the quiz have not heard some of the sermons I’ve heard
at church if they expect me to stay awake on Sunday morning.

Okay, that covers sleep apnea, insomnia, and narcolepsy. What’s left?
Restless leg syndrome? Yes, I have that one too, tingling in the legs so
that you feel you have to move them. You mean some people lay perfectly
still all night and never have to turn over or move to a more comfortable
position? I’m not dreaming that I’m a Radio City Rockette and kicking like I
’m in a chorus line or anything. I always thought my legs had gone to sleep
from lack of movement. I hadn’t really thought of it as a sleep disorder
until now.

I never knew what a sick person I am. "If you think you have a sleep
disorder, see a doctor regardless of the outcome of the quiz," says the
article. Gee, should I be worried? Now I’ll be awake all night wondering how
I can be possible be sleeping when I have so much wrong with me.

Actually, people need to get an adequate amount of sleep in order to be able
to function, at least that’s the story I’m going to use. I think I’ll just
stick with my old habit of catching Zs when I can. I believe there is a name
for people who think they have every illness they hear of.

Now, if you don’t mind, could we continue this discussion later? I’m
starting to feel sleep deprived and it’s time for my power nap.

Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss

------------------

Check out http://www.thenetwits.com where you will find humor about "New
Starts" to revive you from the winter blahs and the New Year's resolutions
that are crashing all around you.

Remember, you must have permission to use, post or publish any of my stuff
anywhere even if you give me credit.  I don't know why I keep saying this
since it isn't my loyal readers that do it, it's the rest of 'em out there
that we gotta watch.

Be good, stay warm, and I'll see you again next week.  Go Titans Go!

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Hello, hope everyone is recovering from the holidays and ready to get back
to work.  With a day off for New Year's right in the middle of the week, it
was one of those weeks with two Monday's.  All I can say is thank goodness
for real coffee, the kind so strong you can barely stir it and would never
dare put it in a styrofoam cup.  Speaking of coffee, (See how I did that?)
that happens to be what my column is about this week.
-----------------

Café Cocoa and the Alien

It was a strange looking place – more like a house than a coffee shop. Could
that be why they call them "coffee houses?" For a minute I wasn’t sure
whether to go inside of not. Finally, I figured, "What have I got to lose?"
Besides, it was cold outside.

It isn’t the sort of place I normally go to. On one side a group of students
poured over books with coffee and papers spread all over the table,
obviously students from a nearby university. "What am I getting into here?"
I wondered.

In the back was a counter where two people debated over what to order. I
look at the menu scribbled on a blackboard, concoctions of pineapple and
caramel that sound more like ice-cream sundaes than coffee. I picked the one
with the least amount of whipped cream and waited my turn.

The couple finally took their selection and wandered toward the back of the
house. I peered down the hall after them. The server ignored my presence
busying herself with washing cups or some other menial chore. Finally, she
acknowledged me standing there just as I was about at the point of leaving.

I ordered my coffee unable to take my eyes off her chin. What is that? A
pierced lower lip with a stud? I tried not to let my own tongue wander to
the inside of my lip as I wondered what it feels like to have metal piercing
your lower lip.

After much mixing and blending, all done in slow motion, the coffee was
finally ready. I took the frothy blend and again peered down the mysterious
hall before deciding on the safer side room close to the front door. I
squeezed into a corner table by a t.v. set that was being ignored, hoping
that I would be treated the same.

One couple was so busy with each other that they scarcely knew anyone else
existed at all. Another table of people with weird hair were talking
animatedly about politics, or some other earth shaking concern, as if their
opinions really made a difference to anyone but them. They all looked very
young.

I sipped my coffee and it really wasn’t too bad – didn’t taste a bit like
coffee – but not bad. I checked my watch and stared at the documentary on
the t.v. Not my taste. Finally, I retrieved a used copy of the local
alternative paper from another table and flipped through it.

What a dump this place is, peeling paint, rickety tables, a fireplace unused
for 40 years, college kids, and a few tough types that appear to have
wandered over from a nearby AA meeting house. Definitely not the sort of
place usually frequented by middle-aged women. I’m on someone else’s turf, I
surmised.

I looked at my watch again, sipped my empty coffee cup, and watched the
worthless documentary. Finally, it was time and I could escape. I left my
new and unusual company. No one said goodbye.

Do they feel as alien in my world as I do in theirs, I wondered?

"Hi Mom, isn’t the coffee house a neat place? Did you like the coffee?"

"Sure, honey, the coffee was out of this world."

The next time I have to wait for my daughter, I think I’ll just wait in the
transporter.


Copyright 2003 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

-------------------------------

Remember to forward this weeks column to all the aliens you know, but write
for permission if you know more than two or three or have a coffee club with
a newsletter.

And that's about it for this week since my grandson is hanging on me waiting
to play computer games.

Happy New Year!

---------------------------

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Happy New Year everyone!  I hope you had a great Christmas and are now busily
working on resolutions for the coming year.  Me?  Well, I've given up on
resolutions; however, if you are really eager for suggestions, you may see last
year's column at http://www.humorcolumnist.com/resolutions.htm .

This year I've opted to go straight to the heart of most resolutions and have
written a satire on weight loss and dieting.

-----------------------------

The Eat-It-Up Diet


Are you sick of being hungry? Are you tired of tasteless diet food? Now with the
Eat-It-Up diet you can eat all you want. Our diet plans are specially prepared
by world class chefs and guaranteed to be delicious or your money back. Eat
fried food, creamy sauces and rich gravies. No more turning away dessert. With
our diet, you can eat as much as you want whenever you want it.
Have you been skipping breakfast again to try and cut down on consumption? With
our diet plan you can eat three meals a day and be guilt free. Thousands have
tried our diet and report that they are eating more and eating better than ever.

Our diets do not concern themselves with fat content or cholesterol, the words
you have learned to hate. Our diet plans are loaded with the good food that we
all love. We know you are sick of fish, carrots and broccoli. Red meat is a
major part of our meals. Give yourself the food you want and deserve!

Craving mashed potatoes and gravy? Go ahead and indulge. On our diet you can
actually eat these foods or anything else that you want. And best of all, no
dangerous diet pills or exercise is needed when you follow our plan. You simply
stay on the plan for three meals a day and eat snacks as desired between meals.

How is this possible, you wonder? Simple! Our diets are designed to satisfy your
food cravings and desire for sweets. They allow you to eat anything you want and
still say you are on a diet plan. What could be simpler than that?

Do we guarantee that you will lose weight? Of course not! Unlike other diet
plans, we tell the truth. Others promise that you will loose weight, but fail to
mention that as soon as you leave the plan, you will regain all you have lost
and probably more. In our plan, we simply leave out the period of starvation in
the middle and go straight to the final result.

All nutritionists know that crash diets do not work and the so-called healthy
weight loss plans allow you to loose weight only temporarily. Here at Eat-It-Up,
we opt to tell the truth. Our motto is: "You are what you eat!" Why spend
countless hours worrying about losing weight when you will gain it back
eventually anyhow?

Forget about going without the high calorie foods you love. You can eat it up
and still say you are on a diet plan. Your friends will be so amazed by the food
you eat that they will be dying to know your secret. Imagine how envious they
will be.

This is a diet plan you can stick to. No more getting hungry and going off the
diet. Because you can eat anything you want, everything is on the plan. Weight
loss plans with cardboard-tasting diet dinners practically beg for you to cheat.
So why not just get on a diet plan that you can stay on it?

We make no false claims or artificial promises. We tell you right up front that
you can continue to eat the same way you always have. If you want to eat
unhealthy food, that is strictly your own business. We are here merely to supply
a demand. Why do other diets feel they have an obligation to dictate to you what
you can and cannot do? With the famous Eat-It-Up diet, it’s your choice.

If you love your meat and potatoes, if you crave sweets and carbohydrates, you
can continue to have the food you want. Eat the way that 90% of Americans eat
anyhow. No more cheating, no more worrying. The choice is yours. Choose to
Eat-It-Up today and worry about it tomorrow. We’ll be glad you did.



Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

-----------------------------

I've received several inquiries regarding re-use of articles.  You may forward
this email to individual friends; however, to post on websites, post in
newsgroups, to use in print publications, or for any public use, you must have
permission and charges may apply.

To my readers: Thanks for your support and encouragement during the past year. 
I've made some major sales on articles lately and could not have done this
without loyal readers like you who spread the word and visit my website.  May
you be blessed in the coming year and may a sense of humor continue to enrich
the lives of all of us.

[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Greetings, my friends!  Christmas is just around the corner now.  My columns
usually reflect what is going on in my life, and this week's rendering is no
exception.  It has been a week of technical difficulty as well as Christmas
festivity.  This parody is dedicated to Help Desk technicians Chris and
Scott, whom I'm rapid driving berserk.  It may be sung to the tune of . . .
Well, never mind.  You can figure it out.

-------------------------------------------------

The Twelve Days of Christmas Computing
by Sheila Moss
.
On the first day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
A BRAND NEW USER I.D.
.
On the second day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
TWO SIGN-IN FORMS,
And a BRAND NEW User I.D.
.
On the third day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
THREE VIRUS SCANS,
Two sign-in forms,
And a BRAND NEW User I.D.
.
On the fourth day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
FOUR PRINTERS JAMMED,
Three virus scans, Two sign-in forms,
And a BRAND NEW User I.D.
.
On the fifth day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
FIVE NEW PASSWORDS,
Four printers jammed, Three virus scans, Two sign-in forms,
And a BRAND NEW User I.D.
.
On the sixth day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
SIX EMAILS BOUNCING,
Five new passwords, Four printers jammed,
Three virus scans, Two sign-in forms,
And a BRAND NEW User I.D.
.
On the seventh day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
SEVEN PROGRAMS LOADING,
Six emails bouncing, Five new passwords,
Four printers jammed, Three virus scans, Two sign-in forms,
And a BRAND NEW User I.D.
.
On the eighth day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
EIGHT WINDOWS FROZEN.
Seven programs loading, Six emails bouncing, Five new passwords,
Four printers jammed, Three virus scans, Two sign-in forms,
And a BRAND NEW User I.D.
.
On the ninth day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
Nine critical downloads, Eight windows frozen,
SEVEN PROGRAMS LOADING,
Six emails bouncing, Five new passwords,
Four printers jammed, Three virus scans, Two sign-in forms,
And a BRAND NEW User I.D.
.
On the tenth day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
TEN UPDATES PENDING.
Nine critical downloads, Eight windows frozen,
Seven programs loading, Six emails bouncing, Five new passwords,
Four printers jammed, Three virus scans, Two sign-in forms,
And a BRAND NEW User I.D.
.
On the eleventh day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
ELEVEN SERVER WARNINGS,
Ten updates pending, Nine critical downloads, Eight windows frozen,
Seven programs loading, Six emails bouncing, Five new passwords,
Four printers jammed, Three virus scans, Two sign-in forms,
And a BRAND NEW User I.D.
.
On the twelfth day of Christmas, my Help Desk gave to me
TWELVE PROGRAMS CRASHING,
Eleven server warnings, Ten updates pending, Nine critical downloads,
Eight windows frozen, Seven programs loading, Six emails bouncing,
Five new passwords,
Four printers jammed, Three virus scans, Two sign-in forms
And a REVOKED User I.D.
.

Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com


--------------------------------

Please forward this to your friends and let them know where to come for
more.  If you plan to use it on your website, or in any other way, it will
be cool if you'll drop me a note for permission, please.

Have a blessed week and may it be filled with the peace and joy of the
holiday season.

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Check out my column in The Kingsport Daily News
http://www.kingsportdailynews.com

Hey folks, Thanks for letting me be with you today.  We've gained a few new
readers this week.  Make them welcome but, do not, I repeat, do NOT, chase
them toward the mistletoe.  We want them to stay around a while.

It's been a crazy week. I had two days at work with the server down and no
computers!  Funny, I didn't realize how automated we were until the computer
was gone and we couldn't send email.

I've written a column that I believe you will enjoy this time.  I'm getting
my grandson at 11 o'clock this morning and we plan to be doing this very
thing, so keep your fingers crossed and maybe we can avoid some of the
mishaps.

-----------------------------------------------

Trimming the Tree

At my house, my grandson always wants to be included in anything to do with
Christmas. One of his favorite activities is helping to trim the Christmas
tree. Including children in holiday festivities helps to create traditions
and gives them childhood memories. Here are some helpful suggestions on how
to trim a Christmas tree so that children can be a part of your Christmas
celebration.

Bring the artificial tree down from the attic.

Remove the child from the top of the box and warn him about the dangers of
climbing.

Take out the limbs and place them in piles according to their size.

Remove the limbs that the child puts in the wrong piles.

Let the child hand you the branches as you insert them into the tree trunk.

Remove the limbs that the child inserted in the wrong place while you were
busy.

Warn the child that the tree may turn over if the branches are not evenly
placed.

Stand the tree back up and be certain that the child was not injured.

String colorful lights around the tree, starting at the top and winding down
around the tree.

Remove the lights that are wound around the child.

Drape a garland or some bright ribbon around the tree before adding the
ornaments.

Throw away any ornaments that the child breaks while you are busy draping
the garland.

Plug in the lights.

Plug in the lights again and warn the child about the dangers of pulling
electric plugs out.

Show the child how to hang ornaments on the tree.

Carefully re-hang any ornaments that fall off. This will be most of them.

All the ornaments will be placed on the bottom branches by the child.

Resist the urge to move them.

Lift the child up and allow him to place the angel at the top of the tree.

Have the child check the ornament boxes to see if they are empty while you
fix the lopsided angel.

Remove the child from the empty Christmas tree box.

Return the empty boxes to the attic.

Re-plug the lights.

Look for the missing child until you realize there is only one place left.

Go to attic and remove the child from the empty Christmas tree box.

Sweep up the glass from the antique ornaments that were broken during
decorating.

Warn the child about the dangers of handling broken glass.

Put a band-aid on your injured finger.

Re-plug the lights again and remind the child that Santa is watching.

Admire the tree, even though all the ornaments are on the bottom branches,
the lights are unplugged, and the angel is slightly lopsided.


Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

----------------------------------------------

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Member: National Society of Newspaper Columnists
http://www.columnists.com

This column is brought to you free to publicize my work.  It is okay to
forward this message to a friend as long as you include my name and
copyright notice.

Written permission is needed to re-post anywhere on the net, use in print
publications, or for any other public performance or use, even when credit
is given.

Hope you all have a great week and I'll be back with you soon!

Can you believe there are only two and a half more weeks until Christmas?
Where has this year gone?  As usual, I'm not ready and will have to rush
around to get things done.  I hope you all are better organized than I am.
Anyhow, I did manage to get into the Christmas spirit enough to write a
holiday column this week.

-----------------------------------------------

Twelve Easy Steps for Wrapping Perfect Gifts

You too can have beautifully wrapped holiday gifts without paying department
store gift wrap prices. Wrapping gifts is not that difficult and something
anyone can learn with a small amount of effort.

1. Get a sturdy box for the gift. You can't find one? There must be
something in the closet from last year. Okay, that one is a bit small, but
close enough. Line it with colorful tissue and place your gift inside.
Whadda ya mean it popped open? Tape it shut! Good grief! Use more tape this
time and make sure it stays shut!

2. Choose colorful paper appropriate for the occasion. Is that crummy stuff
from last year all you have? Well, it will have to do. Why didn't you buy
some new paper when you bought the gift? Measure the paper by gently
wrapping it around the box. Leave two extra inches to overlap. Cut the paper
evenly.

3. Measure the ends by using the end of the box. The paper should fold to
cover the end of the box exactly at both ends. Now trim the sides of the
paper. Where are the scissors? How should I know? They are your scissors.
Try looking under the box! How can you learn to wrap gifts if you keep
losing things?

4. Okay, wrap the box lengthwise and tape the paper tightly. What do you
mean it doesn't reach? I told you leave two extra inches! You forgot?
FORGOT??? Repeat Steps 2 and 3. Now wrap the box lengthwise and tape the
paper. Double-edged tape is nice and doesn't show. You don't have any? That
figures.

5. Tuck the ends in on the side and make crisp creases. Fold the bottom flap
up and the top flap down, like an envelope. It's too long? Well, just fold
the extra under and tape it! Okay, so it made a lump. So what?

6. Repeat Step 5 for the other end. The paper doesn't meet? So, that's why
the other end was too long! Okay, cut a little extra paper off the roll and
patch it so the box doesn't show. No, it doesn't look too good, but we don't
have enough paper to start over. Maybe no one will notice.

7. Choose bright ribbon that coordinates with the wrapping paper. Watch out,
cats like to chase loose ribbon! Tie ribbon around box leaving ends long
enough to tie the bow with. Untie cat from box.

8. To make an easy bow, wrap ribbon around your hand and tie the loops
tightly in the middle. You don't have enough hands? Okay, I'll tie it for
you. Can't you do anything? Now, pull the loops out one at the time on
alternate sides and twist slightly. See how it works? Don't worry, it looks
good enough. Tie the bow to the box. Now untie cat again.

9. Extra items on the outside of a box add a festive touch. Try tying a
small ornament or toy tied next to the bow. No, a small cat will not work.

10. The end came untapped? Tape it back. No more tape, huh? You shouldn't
have used so much to tape the box shut. Use adhesive tape or duct tape. At
this point, who cares? It's the gift that matters, not the wrapping anyhow.

11. Additional gifts may be wrapped in the same manner. Helpful suggestion:
Put cat in basement and lock door first. How many more gifts to you need to
wrap?

12. Gift bags are nice. Go to the discount store and buy bags and tissue
paper. Wrap gifts loosely with tissue and tape. Put several sheets of extra
tissue paper in each bag. Add gifts and you are done! Why didn't we think of
this step in the first place?

Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

----------------------------------------------

A number of new folks have joined us this week.  My readers are a great
group and I'm pleased to welcome our newbies.   Will you regulars please
scoot over at the table to make more room and show them where the giftwrap
and scissors are.

This column is brought to you free to publicize my writing.  You are doing a
great job of passing the word along to friends.  To post this or any article
on websites, in newslists, in print media or for other public use, please
write for permission to avoid copyright violation.

Have a great week and try not to shop till you drop!

----------------------------------------------

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Is it Saturday, again?  Thursday seemed like Saturday; then yesterday was
Saturday, and now it is Saturday again!  It's almost like the movie where
the guy keeps living the same day over and over until he gets it right.

Hope everyone had a big feed on Thanksgiving and stayed away from the malls
yesterday.  I've talked my oldest daughter into doing part of my shopping
this year.  Wow, what a great idea!  She said I should pay her a fee like
people do for a professional shopper.  I said she should pay me for letting
her spend my money.

I've been tied up this week with the holiday and cleaning my attic, so I'm
posting a standby column this week.  I've also posted a couple of Christmas
columns from the archives on my website for those already in the holiday
spirit or those who want to get in the spirit.

======================

I’m Bored

How long since you’ve been really bored? Nowadays, people seem to believe
that there is an invaluable right to NOT be bored. We have television,
radio, computers, video, tapes, CD’s, movies, and DVD. Heaven forbid that
anyone should ever spend any time being bored.

Remember when it was actually possible to spend a boring afternoon? We were
forced to find creative ways to entertain ourselves, things like reading
books, doing crafts, or just daydreaming. No more. We cannot stand to be
bored long enough to dream or think creatively. We rush to push buttons
before boredom sets in.

When I was young, life was pretty boring, but somehow we all managed to grow
up anyhow. If school was not interesting, we learned to challenge ourselves
through study. Nowadays kids must be entertained to learn. Computers provide
constant feedback and stimulate learning, or at least that’s what we are
told.

Somehow, our gadgets are not quite as entertaining as they used to be
though. Hundreds of channels on the satellite and still we can’t find
anything on television worth watching. Thousands of websites, but we surf
aimlessly from one site to another. The biggest challenge for a webmaster is
getting a person to stay on a website long enough to look at it.

We have also become multi-taskers, eating, watching TV. working on the
computer, and talking on the phone all at the same time. The more
stimulation we have, the more we seem to need. It keeps us from being bored.

Could it be that we have become so overly stimulated that nothing truly
entertains us any more? We are always looking for something better,
something more interesting, something more exciting - something less boring.

"I’m bored," is not heard often anymore. And if it is, we seem to think it
is our responsibility as parents, teachers, or society as a whole to provide
ways to keep people from being bored. Bored children get in trouble, we are
told. You have to keep kids busy, entertained. But how do you do that when
busyness itself has become a bore?

There is too much to see, too much to do, too much to entertain us, too much
competition for our time and attention. There is no time to watch a sunset,
go for a walk, feed the birds, or rediscover the thoughts, meditations and
dreams of our own mind. That’s BORING!

We are filled with the voices, thoughts and words of other people, with
values different from our own. The more we absorb, the more alike we all
become, and the blander, more uniform and more boring life becomes.

Soon nothing will be stimulating enough to keep boredom away. We will sit
among our electronic gadgets, surfing from channel to channel on the
television, clicking from site to site on the computer, pushing button after
button on the remote control, reading email after email, as we look for a
something we’ve not seen or heard a hundred times before – or at least
something almost like it.

Funny, our how our minds never died from boredom in the past. Is it really
so likely that they will now? Nothing is entertaining enough; nothing is
worth our time. We feel forced to seek more and more of the very thing that
is causing our demise. We are stuck in information overload.

Perhaps it is time sit back and just do nothing for a while. Perhaps we need
to take a little time to clear our minds and just be bored. Maybe, just
maybe, a little old-fashioned boredom is not such a bad thing.


Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

======================

Feel free to forward this week's column to all your boring friends.
Remember to ask permission before you do anything else with any of my stuff.
It's all copyrighted - even the really boring columns.

See you next Saturday - let's see, that isn't tomorrow I hope.

Here we are together once again on a frosty Saturday morn.  I have an extra
large mug of hot coffee beside my keyboard.  The pot is still on, so help
yourself.

Only one or two people quit over the turkey column last week.  I'm really
proud of you guys!  We even had a good number of new folks to join us in our
madness. I've picked up several new search engine listings for the
newsletter, including LookSmart and HumorLinks, obvious, directories of
excellent taste - or easy to pick backdoor locks.

This week's column was a lot of fun to write.  It is destined to be a
classic.  So without further ado, lets give birth to this baby and get on
with life.

===========================

SpamWham! ™ Activation Notice


Dear Customer:

You are receiving this notice as part of our continuing effort to fight
unsolicited commercial email, commonly known as SPAM.  Using SpamWham! ™, an
innovative new computer technology recently developed, we are now able to
automatically wham SPAM.

SpamWham! ™ will significantly reduce the intrusion of unwanted commercial
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them one thousand times, and return them to the sender with the following
message:  “You have been whammed by SpamWham! ™”.  It will then
automatically delete your email address from the spammers’ address book.

While we will make our best efforts to wham only unsolicited commercial
email from your inbox, it is possible we may occasionally wham a message
that you have requested. No matter what gets whammed, however, you can be
sure that your SpamWham! ™ Newsletter will make it though any type of filter
ever invented. .

This innovative new technology will not only prevent intrusion of unwanted
email into your computer inbox; it will also protect your telephone privacy.
It will answer your incoming calls and delete calls from telemarketers. It
will use callback to automatically return the call one thousand times,
jamming the telemarketer's switchboard, and rendering them unable to make
any more calls for a period of 24 hours.

A small, nearly invisible SpamWham! ™ filter on your regular mailbox can
check and sort your snail mail, automatically removing legitimate letters
while flipping AOL CD disks into the trash can unopened.  It can open and
shred up commercial junk mail messages, stuff them into the return
envelopes, and stamp them “Return to Sender – Postage Collect”.

A SpamWham! ™ filter can also read newspapers and advertising, automatically
clipping and saving any articles on subjects in which you have expressed an
interest, while rolling the remaining paper into usable firelogs for your
fireplace and stacking them by your back door.

In the kitchen a SpamWham! ™ filter on your water system will remove
dangerous chemicals, and produce purified, clean, and sparkling water. A
SpamWham!™ filter on your washing machine will sort whites and colors,
remove spots and stains, and leave your clothes looking whiter and brighter.

SpamWham! ™ in the bathroom will soften the water, remove mineral deposits,
and prevent rings in the bathtub without scrubbing. It will also
automatically write and email complaint letters to your metropolitan utility
company.

A SpamWham! filter ™ for your furnace will remove pollen, dust and mold from
the air, the pollutants that cause most allergic reactions in hypersensitive
individuals. It will also filter out dangerous oxides, hydrocarbons, and
particulates from the air that you breathe.  It will vacuum cat hair from
the furniture and clean the kitty litter box, creating a safer and healthier
environment for your family.

Could your computer’s memory contain unsolicited pornography without you
knowing about it? SpamWham! ™ will scan your computer’s memory, remove all
references to porn, gambling and alcohol, and leave your computer as clean
and innocent as a newborn babe.

SpamWham! ™ will prevent children from viewing undesirable content on the
Internet by checking their I.D. and blocking the entrance into adult chat
rooms of anyone under the age of 18. It will also make a mug shot and record
the fingerprints of those attempting to enter and email the information to
their parents.

Please note that we provide the SpamWham! ™ Filtering and Deletion System as
a service to our users.  If users do not want to use the service, they may
opt-out.  We make no warranties and disclaim any liability in connection
with your use or inability to use this service.

We believe that SpamWham! ™ will significantly reduce the intrusion of
unsolicited messages into your life. Should you want to reject this service,
please accept our apology for trying, and pardon us for living!  Forward a
message to Customer Care and we will assure that as much SPAM as possible is
directed your way.

Sincerely,
Your Friendly ISP
---

Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

===========================

Now this is the part where I whine. This newsletter is offered free to
publicize my writing. If you like the column, pass it along to a friend.
Naturally I expect you to  leave my copyright notice and link attached.
Don't even think about putting it on a website, newslist, or in a printed
venue without writing me first.  All of my stuff is copyrighted, even the
lousy ones.  If you see a column of mine that you recognize published
anywhere else, please let me know.

Have a great week!  Try not to eat too much turkey. I'm eating out this
year, so save me some leftovers!

===========================

For more information about this Newsletter:
http://groups.yahoo.com/group/HumorColumnist/

Hello, we are back again. A special welcome to those who joined this week,
though I know you've already been welcomed several times by those
overly-enthusiastic auto responders.  We have a great group here, so just make
yourself at home and fell free to shoot me an email with your thoughts or
comments.

I am wondering how various people plan to spend the Thanksgiving Holiday this
year. Are you eating dry turkey with the in-laws, taking sweet potato pie to the
singles social, or cooking your first turkey with the paper sack of parts still
inside?  I've done all of these at one time or another. If enough of you send me
a short email, I'll make a page of reader comments.

I had a column all ready for this week, then had an inspiration yesterday
morning and decided to write a seasonal one.  It's a bit different from what I
usually do, but what the heck, no extra charge.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++
TURKEYS UNITE!


Turkeys. unite! It’s time to panic! They are killing us by the millions. We must
run while there is still time! Look around you - do you see any turkeys that you
knew a year ago?

They are breeding us to increase the size of our plump white breasts and meaty
legs! Did you think that your fine physique was merely a gift of nature? Don’t
you know that they are breeding us for white meat? Thanksgiving is just around
the corner. Millions will die!

Run! Escape while there is still time! We can no longer fly like our wild
forefathers could; therefore we must run, no matter how hard it seems. Three
hundred million of us will be consumed in a year! We can stop this slaughter of
the innocent if we act now.

They have taken away our hormone and steroid injections to keep us weak. They
are artificially inseminating our females because we have grown too fat and
tired to do the job ourselves. Our hens are being turned into egg machines. When
they lay 88-93 eggs and are totally exhausted, they are also sent to market.

Do you think you are free just because you are allowed to run loose in a poultry
barn? Are you happy merely because you are not kept in a cage? Wake up, turkeys!
They want you to be happy – happy and fat!

Don’t touch that corn and soy meal! They are not being kind to you. They are
fattening you up for the kill. You have been bred selectively to have white
feathers so your skin will not have spots. Forty-five million of us will end up
on the dining room table in a few weeks. Our hens are even more likely to be
sent to the ovens than male turkeys!

Does that mean male turkeys are safe? Hardly! Tom turkeys will most likely end
up as processed lunchmeat, turkey ham, turkey burgers, or even as pet food. You
will be consumed not only during holidays, but all year long. They like you
because your meat is low fat and mild tasting. Don’t you deserve better than
this?

So, you think you can flee to another place, another country where Thanksgiving
is not celebrated? Wrong! Other countries eat our kind too. Israel consumes more
turkey that the United States. France and England also have a hunger for fowl.
Actually, no place in the world is completely safe!

We must flee! It is time for panic! We must act while there is time. Escape any
way you can. They will not expect you to be hostile. Use the element of
surprise. Remember that you have beaks and claws, even if they have been
trimmed. Do not be fooled and think that you are safe because you have food,
fresh water, and a roof over your head!

Turkeys are true American birds. In the tradition of America, show them how we
can fight against injustice. We must let them know that turkeys should have
rights! We must become activists in our own defense. Feathers may fly, but we
cannot be deterred until justice is served (instead of us)! We must flock
together for the sake of our unborn poults, still in the incubator.

No bird is safe, especially at this time of the year! Rally together now. Let
‘em eat cranberries! Let ‘em eat sweet potatoes! Let ‘em eat anything but us!

This year let the turkeys have something to be thankful for!

Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

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[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Hello once again!  We had our first frost of the season in my area this week. 
Time for thoughts to turn toward the holidays.  It's never too early to begin
putting things off until later, I say.

I'm excited this week because it is my grandson's fourth birthday and he will
receive his first bicycle, a tiny silver number which is hidden in my garage
right now!  As if that isn't enough, I also have a three-day holiday weekend,
thanks to our fine veterans.

Here is the rendering of the week, an election rant.  You did remember to vote
this week, didn't you?

====================

Election Reflection
Thank goodness the elections are over, and we can get back to normal around
here. All the mud slinging was starting to get on my nerves. I’m not sure all
that whoopla does much good anyhow, but politicians often can’t seem to resist.

Finally, the unsightly election "sign farms" which have sprouted up along
roadsides everywhere will come down. They don’t seem to do much other than
provide clutter, like the fancy, expensive campaign literature that is now
crunched up in the trash barrel, much of it never read.

As usual, I failed to early vote and had to go vote on Election Day. I tried to
go after work and, of course, everyone else did too. We have voting machines,
only three voting machines and half of the precinct was there at one time trying
to vote. It was chaos.

No problems with chad and dimples around here. I’ve voted with those punch
ballots elsewhere, though. Hate em. No changing your mind, unless you want to
claim a spoiled ballot. Didn’t hear too much about Florida screwing up this
time. Guess they finally figured it out, or just gave up trying.

I vote at a fire hall, which is an improvement over the last place, but still
pretty bad. It rained all day on Election Day, which turned the field where we
were supposed to park into a sea of mud. Nothing more fun than wading mud and
standing in line to vote.

For some reason, they were less organized than usual. In spite of good-natured
griping, people were generally in an agreeable mood, though, and waited their
turn. I guess that’s one good reason to wait until Election Day to vote. Seeing
the people waiting in line to vote is a reminder of what democracy is all about
and helps one feel like a part of the process.

I found my line and got my affidavit, then was pointed to the "real" line. It
wound all around the fire hall wall, past the row of fire helmets and line of
boots already stuffed into pants, ready to go when the alarm sounds. Finally, I
made it to the front of the line and did my civic duty. It only took an hour and
a half. At least there were no fire alarms while I was there.

In Tennessee, the Mayor was elected Governor, and the former Governor was
elected to Congress. Sort of like musical chairs, isn’t it? We did our share
here in helping to turn the Senate over to the Republicans by sending them one
of our Republican favorite sons.

After eight years, the Democrats took back the State Capitol, however, and are
probably over there measuring their offices right now while the patronage
employees wave goodbye to their lame-duck bosses and wonder who will be first to
get fired.

The only other big news was that the voters voted for a lottery in Tennessee.
Can you believe it, a lottery in conservative Tennessee? The lottery was
actually the big winner, getting more votes than either of the candidates for
Governor. People must really be tired of driving all the way to Kentucky to do
their gambling.

And that’s about all I have to say regarding the election. I didn’t do a
pre-election column, but politicians are way too funny to miss out on
completely. Hope you were all registered and voted early like I’m going to do
next time. I always say that, but this time I mean it. Yes, really!

© 2002 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

=======================

Yes, you may forward this to a friend if you so desire.  Please include my
copyright and a link to my website.  It's been a tough week as I've searched the
net and found FIVE of my columns posted without permission and one plagiarism
(i.e. someone else claiming authorship).  They are stealing them faster than I
can write em.  Nevertheless, we will go forward and you know where you get the
new stuff first, don't you?

=======================

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=======================

Thanks, have a great holiday weekend, and I'll see you next week with yet
another new one!




[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

Good morning and what an exciting day!  We are all together again and this is
our first newsletter to all from our new home at YahooGroups!  We lost some
folks in the move, which is too bad but anticipated.  To those of you who are
survivors, congrats!  If you have an empty seat next to you, bring a friend next
week and we will soon have our numbers back to normal.

Betty baked the brownies, so grab one and pour yourself a cup of cider.  I'd be
a better hostess, but I'm still a bit out of sorts from the time change last
weekend.

********************************************************************************\
**************

Spring Forward – Fall Back
I had an extra hour this week. But that created a problem - what to do with my
extra hour? The time has changed again. Just about the time I get adjusted to
daylight savings time, it changes back to standard time. I really hate all this
dallying around with the clocks.

It should be great to get an extra hour of sleep. When I set the clocks back and
saw what time it was, it was terrific to realize that it wasn’t really the time
I thought, but an hour earlier instead. My body didn’t seem to understand,
however. Please, body! Do not get sleepy now! We have another hour to go. Force
yourself. .

Of course, staying awake an extra hour made me really tired. And in spite of
being really tired, I woke up the next morning an hour early. Well, it wasn’t
really an hour early. It was really the time I always get up, but the clock said
it was an hour early. That made the day an hour longer, and so long it seemed as
if the day would never end.

The clock-changing bit happens on the weekend to give everyone a chance to
remember before the workday. I actually had an extra hour to get ready for the
day since I got up early, which meant plenty of time to do a few additional
things around the house, things I’d not normally do. Naturally, doing the extra
stuff made me run late and I end up not being on time.

I wish I could just get rid of that extra hour somehow. It’s starting to bug me.
I know I earned it last spring when I gave up an extra hour to change to
daylight saving time, but it’s been gone so long that I don’t even miss it any
more. I can’t seem to adjust. I can’t use it by going to bed early, and I can’t
use it by getting up later.

I could use the hour to do something I really want to do, I suppose. Trouble is
I’m so tired and out of whack from trying to adjust to the time change that I
don’t really want to do much of anything. I don’t want that hour. Maybe I could
give it to charity. They always seem to need our time.

Maybe we could all collect up our extra hours and pool them. If 24 people would
donate, we would have an extra day. Is that how it would work, or would the hour
we give be the same hour for everyone and so we would still have only an hour?

This is getting very confusing. The only way NOT to end up with time on my hands
seems to be NOT to give up an hour to begin with. It’s an uphill battle.

I guess I’ll just save my hour. Surely something will come up sooner or later to
use it for. Don’t want to waste time now, do we? But whether we use time or lose
time, we always need more time, and there is never enough time.

I’d talk about this more, but my time is gone. You see, I’ve just been killing
time. See how this works? At least, now I won’t have to worry about what to do
with that extra hour any more.

Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

***************************************************************

You may forward this column to a friend, but please include the Copyright
Notice.  All my stuff is copyrighted, even the really boring columns, so refrain
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Check out my column in The Kingsport Daily News online
http://www.kingsportdailynews.com

********************************************************************************\
*******************

I've already posted a Thanksgiving Column on my website called "The Hysterical
History of Thanksgiving."  This one never fails to earn me hate mail from
history teachers who say it is hard enough to teach the ragmuffins without me
distorting the facts.  As usual, I fall asleep during their lectures. 
http://www.humorcolumnist.com/thanksgiving.htm

Get out of the house today and enjoy the beautiful fall colors.  They won't last
long!




[Non-text portions of this message have been removed]

The major news of the week is that I've finally taken the plunge and
moved the mailing list to YahooGroups!  Due to problems with spam, virus
threats, and time spent administering the list, it became necessary to
move to a list service.  I will be moving the rest of  the members this
week, and next week we can throw a reunion shindig!

In spite of moving and tripping over old columns piled up all over the
place, I've managed to write a new one.  If you were ever a child, I
think you can relate to it:

============
Murphy's Laws for Kids


The more you hate spinach, the more likely it is you will have it for
dinner.

If you miss the school bus, it will always be on the day of a field trip
or party.

If you spill your milk, the dumb dog won't lick it up no matter what you
promise.

If you use the sofa for a trampoline, you will forget about your muddy
tennis shoes until later.

If you have a helium birthday balloon, it will get caught in the ceiling
fan.

The more you need to go potty, the harder it is to get your pants down.

If you have an unbreakable toy, you will break it anyway.

The harder you try to hide something behind your back, the more you are
convinced that mom is psychic.

If you have two best friends, they will like each other better than they
like you.

If you forget to put something away, it will be the carton of ice cream.

If your favorite program is on TV, your little sister will be watching a
cartoon video.

The more you try to sit still in church, the more your underwear
scratches.

When you have to do you homework before going outside, you will
invariably get stuck on the last problem.

The harder you try not to eat before dinner, the more likely is that a
friend will try to share candy.

The more you try to hurry while getting dressed, the greater the
probability that you can't find socks without holes that match.

If you kick anything under the bed, the cat will be sleeping there.

If you remember to wash your hands before eating, the dog will lick you
on the mouth.

The more relatives your have in the audience at the school play, the
greater the chance of forgetting your lines.

If you remember to turn out the lights in the basement, dad will be
downstairs.

If you try to flush a dead goldfish, the toilet will clog and run over.

The more parts a game has, the greater the likelihood that it will get
spilled.

Junk food will always be on the highest kitchen shelf instead of in the
bottom cabinet.

The more you want to go outside and play, the harder it is to clean your
room.

The newer your shoes are, the more rain puddles you will see to tempt
you.

If you wake up with a stomachache and fever, it must be Saturday.

If Murphy were a kid, he would lose his lunch money.


Copyright 2002 Sheila Moss
Humor Columnist.Com
http://www.humorcolumnist.com

============

If you like Murphy's Laws, check out this website:
http://www.murphys-laws.com where you will find a bunch of good ones,
including one of mine. “Murphy's Laws for Mothers”
http://www.murphys-laws.com/murphy/murphy-Mothers.htm (reprinted by
permission)

The Mother's Laws have also been circling the net without my permission
or name.  If you see this article on a joke list without my name, please
let me know and forward the list or URL.

I'm planning to take my daughter and grandson to a Halloween Celebration
today which should be fun.  Hope you have a great week as well.  Stay
safe and I'll see you next week!