Clean Chips For Sun
- Clean Clean
Welcome to Buffalosjokes and Thank You for joining us. My name is Buffalo
and I have the watch.
Hockey- I am not really a great fan actually of hockey, its just a part of
my past. When I was young, there was only one tv channel, Channel 2 , which
was CBC, the Canadian Broadcasting Company.
Saturday was "Hockey Night in Canada" and it was the only thing on so if you
wanted to stare at the tube it was hockey. Most of the true greats have
come from Canada and in an area not too far from where I am so some of the
heroes were considered local. This is not and ethnic thing , its just that
we have ice 6 months out of the year and it is easier for children to play
hockey than to chase golf balls.
Play they do , also starting with Peewee Hockey pre-school all the way up to
the farm clubs for the NHL to keep the high school kids occupied.
Any how since the only channel was Canadian I believed that the two greatest
teams on the earth were Montreal and Toronto. Its kinda like growing up as
a Catholic back then , they told you that Catholics were Christians , they
just didn't bother telling you that Protestants were too.
Now hockey has changed . Cities that have never had any ice in the past
40,000 years are winning the Cup and the Play-offs last almost till football
starts. We also have to mention the Russian players, with names that we all
have trouble pronouncing. Seems like they are one of the largest post Cold
War imports and add enough extra players so that maybe we can add more teams
and have year round hockey.
All in All , I am now a Detroit Red Wings and Lake Superior State Lakers fan
but the greatest game on earth is still Montreal Vs Toronto on a Sat night..
Enjoy the chips..buffalo
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Alien Chips From Big Al
A spaceship lands in the middle of Texas.
As the Martians start filing out, a big Texan walks up to the one who looks
He asks the Martian, "Y'all got them green eyes?"
The Martian answers back in a machine-like drone, "Yes, we all have green
The Texan again inquires, "and y'all go those antennay on yo' head?"
"Yes we all have antennae on our heads."
The Texan is still curious, as he looks as more of the Martians, he again
leader, "Y'all got them long black coats?"
To which the Martian says, "No, only the Hasidim."
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Heavy Chips From Squirrel Bait
Buffalo had been experiencing chronic problems with back pain, so he visited
The good doctor, after giving him a thorough examination, said grimly,
"Mr.Brabant, I am sorry to have to say this, but if you want to get well
again you would have to lose a foot."
"What!" I exclaimed. "You mean my foot has to be amputated?"
"Oh, no, no!" replied the good doctor, vociferously. "I mean you have to
lose a foot from around your waistline!"
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A Martian lands his spaceship in the middle of Brooklyn. when he gets out
of his spaceship, he realizes that one of the wheels of his spaceship is
missing. Looking around, he sees a bagel shop, with a big picture of a
bagel on the sign in front of the shop.
Thinking that it's a store that sells wheels, he walks into the store,
points to a bagel, and asks the owner, "Can I buy one of those wheels?"
The owner looks at the Martian with puzzlement, and says, "Wheels? Those
are not wheels. They are bagels."
The Martian asks, "What's a bagel?"
The store owner says, "A bagel is a food. And it's delicious!" The owner
gives a bagel to the Martian and says, "Here...taste one."
The Martian eats the bagel, enjoying the taste very much. He looks up at
the store owner, and says, " You know, this would go great with lox and
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Computer: A machine that looks like a TV screen except you can't watch shows
on it. Also comes with a Keyboard and a "Hard Drive" (see below).
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Floppy Disk: A large, flat, flexible disk measuring approximately 5.25
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Hard Drive: A big boxy thing that comes with the Computer. Also called a
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Internet: A thing you click on to surf the Information Superhighway (also
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tell you where it is.
Memory: A measure of how much disk space the Computer has. Measured in
Modem: See "Hard Drive". You never need a modem to access the Internet.
Mouse: This is a term technical types use for the Computer's foot-pedal. The
Mouse should be positioned with the "tail" pointing toward the user because
that makes the most sense. Some varieties can be held and clicked like a
remote control, tapped against the screen, or placed against the screen and
moved, although this makes it hard to see what's going on so it's not clear
why they designed it that way.
Surge Suppresor: (also "Surge Protector", "Power Strip") A device that
protects the Computer against harmful electrical spikes, when plugged into
Windows: Transparent glass things in the walls of your house that sometimes
need to be closed because they affect how your Computer functions. Also
refers to a really technical thing that comes on all Computers, but most
people never use it so it's safe to delete. The most popular version of
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A cab driver reaches the Pearly Gates and announces his presence
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Dan and Dave were sitting in the pro shop sipping an after game drink.
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From The Buffalos Mail Box
Around the scuttlebutt with the Buffalo
( A modern scuttlebutt is a water cooler and on old ships as sailors stood
around the water cask rumors, sea stories and useful info was spread )
Why it is that you seem to hit the right buttons?
In !956 I got a job at the local (indoor) theater (The Scott Theater,
Scottsburg, IN). My duties included, cleaning up the theater after school (I
was a Sophamore and would come into the theater after school and clean it up
from the night before), collecting tickets (I stayed in the theater after
cleaning (do my homework) until it opened for the night), selling popcorn
and candy (I ran the consession booth), acting as the usher (if needed), and
clearing the theater after the movie was over.
The family that owned the indoor theater also owned the outdoor (Moonglo)
theater. For the next few seasons, I worked the indoor and the outdoor
theaters. The Scott Theater (indoor) did not have air conditioning,
therefore, when the weather became "warm" the "family" would close the
indoor and open the outdoor (Moonglo) drive-in. I then would move to the
drive-in and continue my duties (cleaning up from the night before and
working in the Consession Booth). Until Fall when the Moonglo would close
and the indoor theater would open for the winter. This went on for a couple
of years and when I turned 16, the "family" then gave me the responsibility
of "Driving the Jeep". This meant that I sold the tickets at the entrance
booth, and later, instead of working in the Consessionn Booth, I drove the
jeep. My duties included ensuring the moral standards (no sex on the
back row, I especially looked for the steamed-up windows), no one stole a
speaker (waiting at the exit for them to turn them in when they "accidently'
ripped one lose), and, directing the traffic at the exit after the movie
(ably assisted by the local "County Mounty"). And, the next day cleaning up.
Don of Niagara Falls
Sometimes things just don't go right:
In 1979, I was stationed at Ft Carson, CO. My friend Bill Beaver (SFC, MP
Corps) invited me to go fishing. The only problem was that I did not have CO
Fishing License. And, this is where the rub began:
Because I was in the Army, I could get my CO fishing license at the Ft
Carson Rod & Gun Club. So here I go. (In CO the fishing license is a
combined hunting and fishing license.) So, I approached the desk at the Rod
& Gun Club and was greeted by a very pleasant (and eye appealing) young
lady. I informed her that I wanted CO Hunting and Fishing License and
provided my identification. She pointed to a sign and stated that I must
take the gun safety course before I could receive my license.
I read the sign, ³If you were born after 16 August 1963, you must take the
Gun Safety Course prior to receiving CO Hunting and Fishing License.² I was
born on 13 May 1942. So the following conversation took place:
³I was born before 1963.²
³No, you were not.²
³Yes, I was.²
³NO, you were not.²
³YES, I WAS!²
³NO, you were not. Let me show you. 1942 is after 1963; when I count 1963,
1962, 1961, etc., until you get to 1942. As you can see 1942 is after 1963.²
³Can I speak to your supervisor?²
She called her supervisor (a retired E-7) and she explained to him the
problem. He looked knowingly at me, gave me the ³Marine Corps Salute²,
ordered the young lady to give me my license, and told her to come to his
office afterward for "additional training".
Don of Niagara Falls
Amazing 20 Dollar Bill
Hope you are able to get this. It is really something.
In a message dated 06/01/2002 2:56:53 AM Eastern Daylight Time,
<< Dave G. Safety Harbor,
If you read today's issue, then you know American Airport Security went
after an 85 year old Grandma, in the U.S.
Canadians get much the same treatment going through US border crossings.
Sept.11 changed all us and many things, not all for the better.
Hi Buff..... if you type "granny" in the search line and scroll down to #4.
you'll see that the story about the airport isn't true
<A HREF="http://www.snopes2.com/ "> Click here: Urban Legends Reference
Buffalo says I think we all figured that out when it mentioned her doing
victory laps for a half hour on the security guard with her scooter.
True or not I love them , and they are interactive. Everyone gets a
chance to search to see if they are true or not.
About the lack of Canadian hockey teams...
After the dismal showing of the American Team at the Olympics a few months
ago, the Canadian Hockey Teams agreed to let the
American teams have a go....
After all, most Canadian teams can win just about any time they want!!!!
Buffalo says Plus the Stanley cup is about who can afford the best
Canadian Players and we pay ours in U.S. Funds heh heh.
Sorry to hear about your brother's problems entering Canada...it is unusual
and he seems to have gotten a raw deal...this is not the way Canadians want
be assured. I am assuming your brother attempted his border crossing after
9/11. Take my word for it...the increased caution works both ways going
over our undefended border.
But such is not a new phenomenon. In March of 2000 I was sent a plane
ticket to fly to Harrisburg PA by an old friend who lives down there. Not
anticipating any problems with what should be essentially a domestic flight
in view of the long association of our countries I packed lightly taking
along my medications and a couple of changes of clothes. I was nicely but
not over dressed and as per routine stopped at the customs kiosk to identify
myself, my reason fo travel, etc., all the usual drill...among the questions
I was asked was what did I do for a living. I explained I was on a
government disability pension. when they enquired the nature of the
disability I explained I was diagnosed as bipolar, which I had to clarify to
the gentleman as manic depressive. (Good news by the way Buff...I disovered
that for the last 5 years they have treated me for the wrong problem; I am
not bipolar...I suffer BPD...similar in cause and to a degree in effect but
not totally similar in treatment though many of the drugs used are the same
since both are serotonin uptake problems)
I was asked to go off into the little side room reserved for more intensive
determination of my fitness to visit a friend where a brusque but not
impolite gentleman from the Justice Department proceeded to question me very
closely on my reasons for travelling, who was my friend, what were the pills
in my luggage, why did I carry a jackknife (2" blade in my pocket) and a
number of other good sensible officious cop type questions. This took a
little over two hours. Just prior to my flight being announced
(simultaneously almost) I was told that if I wanted to cross the border I
had to get verification from my family doctor, my psychiatrist, and someone
in an official capacity who knew me, such as a police chief, etc. that I was
not a danger to myself or others if they let me on a plane to go see an old
flame I went to high school with.
Being Canadian, I didn't cuss him out...though I did want to...I did express
an opinion of where the red tape would fit...and I waited an additional 6
hours for the bus to take me back home (about 200 miles). I was not in a
cheerful frame of mind by any means. Now you must bear in mind that this
was long before 9/11/01. I was effectively weaponless, carrying medications
prescribed to control my medical condition in a quantity insufficient to
render anyone unconscious let alone kill...I was in a positive frame of mind
and not showing any signs of disturbance. They wouldn't (and likely moreso
now still won't) let me cross the border...though to all intents and
purposes I am as normal as the next person.
Way back in high school we learned that both scales share a common point
at -40. (-40F &-40C are the same)
Start the conversion, in either direction, by adding 40. You can
intuitively determine whether your conversion result will be a larger or
smaller number, so multiply by the conversion 9/5 or 5/9. Then subtract 40
from the result.
. No need to worry about adding 32 first, or subtracting later.
You should be able to do it in your head
When it's springtime in the UP
And the gentle breezes blow,
About seventy miles an hour
And it's fifty-two below.
You can tell you're in the U P
'cause the snow's up to your butt,
And you take a breath of springtime air
And your nose holes both freeze shut.
The weather here is wonderful,
So I guess I'll hang around,
I could never leave the UP
My feet are frozen to the ground.
How goes it? Been writing you at buffalo@..., have you changed
services? The following came from an old friend, though you might. THANKS
so much for the Memorial Days chips. It has been that long ago an I can
just now talk about it some. An amazing number of us apparently still feel
the pain. Your chips helped a lot on closure, easing the pain even though I
guess it will follow me and some others to our grave. Take care
----- Original Message -----
From: Robert L. Williams
Sent: Friday, May 10, 2002 11:03 AM
Subject: Fw: LEST WE FORGET
LEST WE FORGET THE LITTLE HOUSE THAT SAT BEHIND THE BIG HOUSE.
THE OUTHOUSE POEM
The service station trade was slow
The owner sat around,
With sharpened knife and cedar stick
Piled shavings on the ground.
No modern facilities had they,
The log across the rill
Led to a shack, marked His and Hers
That sat against the hill.
"Where is the ladies restroom, sir?"
The owner leaning back,
Said not a word but whittled on,
And nodded toward the shack. With quickened step she entered there
But only stayed a minute,
Until she screamed, just like a snake
Or spider might be in it.
With startled look and beet red face
She bounded through the door,
And headed quickly for the car
Just like three gals before.
She missed the foot log - jumped the stream
The owner gave a shout,
As her silk stockings, down at her knees
Caught on a sassafras sprout.
She tripped and fell - got up, and then
In obvious disgust,
Ran to the car, stepped on the gas,
And faded in the dust.
Of course we all desired to know
What made the gals all do
The things they did, and then we found
The whittling owner knew.
A speaking system he'd devised
To make the thing complete,
He tied a speaker on the wall
Beneath the toilet seat.
He'd wait until the gals got set
And then the devilish tike,
Would stop his whittling long enough,
To speak into the mike.
And as she sat, a voice below
Struck terror, fright and fear,
"Will you please use the other hole,
We're painting under here!"
I was a pig boat sailor on a WW2 Pig Boat (USS JALAO SS 368) but well after
WW2 was over.
SPECIAL FEATURE (By Bob "Dex" Armstrong):
The Men With The Pin
They returned ... Thousands of them... No, they numbered in the hundreds of
thousands... Faces weather beaten, tanned... Smiling as they stepped down
from trains all over America. Smiling that smile, universally recognized as
that 'Damn!! It's great to be home!' smile.
They were home again... Those that were left. The survivors of a generation
who left their homes and families to undertake the obligation of
freedom-loving men to go into combat and ultimately defeat some of the most
vile proponents of evil. They wore the story of their deeds and where they
had been in rows of multi-colored, mute reminders above their pockets. What
they had seen... What they had done and the personal losses they had
suffered, would forever be in their minds when they looked up at their
national colors floating gently in the breeze.
They are rapidly passing into the cold pages of history. The awesome respect
in which they were held a half-century ago has given way to the gentle view
point of the Monday Morning Quarterbacking of those who have grown up in a
world of safety and extravagance... Of promiscuity and excess made possible
because of their self-sacrifice.
Soon it will be impossible to find a combat pilot who stared at oncoming
aircraft through a rotating propeller blade... A sailor who passed 40 mm
shells to a loader in a battleship gun tub... A soldier who carried rifle
ammo in eight round clips and ate crap that resembled dog food out of an
olive drab can... In a Dutch ditch... In the rain.
Men who fought wars that lasted years, rather than days and ended with a
clear-cut result. For those of us who rode boats that went below the
surface, there were men who rode our boats when the close aboard sound of
fifty pounds of TNT detonating would be clearly heard through several inches
of steel. That 'steel' was U.S. built pressure hull and audible public
prayer could be heard in every compartment. And when it was over, hardened
men could hug each other, secure in the knowledge that no one would feel
that they might be gender-confused.
These same men knew the sound of torpedo hits and the telltale sound of the
result of such hits as the bulkheads of an enemy target collapsed while the
enemy vessel made it's way to the bottom. Pressure-folding steel is a sound
most of us will never hear, thanks to what these men did.
They had executed their war way beyond the established battle lines... Deep
within the home waters of the Jap Empire. At a time when the Jap emperor and
his militaristic toadies were assuring their easily duped people that they
were secure, the people of Japan witnessed their merchant ships burning all
along their coastal horizons. Ships, whose burning hulks were disappearing
nightly, compliments of our Undersea Warriors.
So they returned ... What was left of them. They crossed the brow of boats
that wore freshly painted enemy flags... Flags that chronicled their
kills... A silent statement of their contribution to our victorious effort
in the Pacific. It may have been a Silent Service, but little Jap flags
painted on the sides of conning towers made it clear that the presence of
our submarine force had been felt.
And above the jumper pockets of the men crossing to the pier, could be found
the sterling silver representation of a submarine. The pin itself and each
star worn below it, represented a war patrol which resulted in excess of ten
thousand tons of enemy shipping sent to the bottom. The man or men who wrote
the requirements for the awarding of that insignia wrote those requirements
in such rigid and specific terms that the pin has never been watered down
and reduced to the 'Crackerjack' prize that so many other military badges
Today, the U.S. Submarine Combat Patrol Pin remains a symbol of men who have
gone to sea and have drawn blood in defense of their country and way of life
at the risk of their personal safety... If not the sacrifice of their
Someday, the powers that decide such things, will come to their senses and
will stop naming our submarines after geographical locations and hack
politicians and start naming our undersea warships after the heroes who wore
'The Pin'. Why they feel compelled to look elsewhere when we have such
towering heroes of our own makes no sense to this old E-3. They named a
whole class of tin cans after Admiral Arliegh Burke, proving that they can
do it right... At times.
But, the men who parked torpedoes in the sides of so many enemy ships, held
no inflated sense of their own importance. When you try to thank the old
meat-eaters, they always reply with,
"Hell, I was young, scared and just doing my job."
Volunteering for submarine duty in wartime has never been routinely expected
of U.S. Sailors. Volunteering has never been an exercise in goat-roping the
timid and reluctant. The Draft Board never forced any citizen to fill the
ranks of the Submarine Service. Any man, who found wartime employment inside
a pressure hull, was there because he put himself there.
"Just doing my job."
Who in their right mind would choose a line of work that included sitting,
sweat-soaked in darkness, 400 feet below fresh air and sunshine listening to
canisters of high explosive detonate and shatter gauge faces and
"Just doing my job."
To buy that, would mean that our Submarine Force was comprised of the worlds
largest collection of complete raving lunatics. The last idiot who called a
World War II submariner a complete lunatic is still trying to get used to
his new glass eye, figuring out how to talk with his new teeth and walk
They are ours... They handed us an unblemished record of service 'faithfully
performed'... A gallant record of deeds performed by incredibly brave and
Their ranks thin daily. We do not have a lot of time left to buy them a
beer... Listen to their amazing stories and thank them for what they gave us
and left in the pages of the history of The United States Navy.
These men did for years without honor, or news coverage or even a pat on the
back, almost without notice, what the NY firemen and policemen did for a few
hours and are still, months later being lavished with reward. What's wrong
with this picture? Yes, I'm getting bitter, enough is enough and wrong is
wrong no matter what name you put on it. This is not to say the firemen and
policemen were not heroes, not men and women of high quality and dedication
to their fellow humans. However, they have no right to be added to the
Memorial Day celebration, anymore than the victims from Okalahoma. There
were not as many people involved, but was not the sacrifice as great, the
pain as vast. Yes they all paid the supreme price but they didn't face the
horror and fear of combat daily, years on end. They didn't go into harms way
willingly despite the possible outcome. They didn't knowingly lay their life
on the line 24/7 for their fellow man. Give them their own days, that they
deserve. Call it The National Day of Reconciliation, that's really what it
was, or Day of Remembrance or some like. But don't lump it with the
military Memorial Day the feeling of course are as intense but the way they
came about so very different. When was the last time you heard and ordinary
seaman or other regular military person called a hero? They with out a doubt
are hero's but few see it that way. Thank God we still have men and women,
military men and women, who go in harms way and ask no notice. Fair is not
a word many of them use. Many of today's populations, both here an
elsewhere fail to realize if they enjoy life, success and freedom they must
daily or even more often thank the teacher who gave them the skills to be
successful and the veteran who make it possible to use these skills in
freedom. You have the best web site going. Many of us old military duffers
need the support of other military people and the look into their past to
try and make sense out of our past and find closure with the horror of war
and the stress of many years in harms way. From time to time I see someone
wants you to change your material. Please, please don't change your program
to suit those who have never been there, if they don't like what they see
you give them plenty notice of what is coming up, they can simply click
next. The rest of us need the whole message to laugh, to learn, to reflect,
to understand, to forget the bad experiences, the horror of war, the pain of
injury, lost friends, missed futures, and scarred souls. There are
thousands and thousands of sites and opinions on the inter-net, if there is
one putting out a more needed messages than yours I have yet to find it,
please don't change, your understanding is far too important, your need too
Full sails and following seas to you and yours.
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- My name is buffalo and I have the watch.
Eleven years ago, I lost one of the few cats
that ever became attached to. I still swear that
she never left as late at night, out of the corner
of my eye as I was working on the chips, I could
see a flash of her tabby colors as she jumped up
on the workstation to talk to me. We have had a lot
of cats and even a few dogs spend som time here
while PAWS found their owners or permanent homes
but none will ever be a Picky. Here is her story.
One of the first cats we took in was a female tabby of unknown age.
Buffy was in charge of naming the animals and because of her choice of
diet, she was named Miss Picky Jane . She had been found near a farm
several miles away and once word of mouth gets out that you will take
animals in, people find you. She must have had a rough life as she had
had her hips injured at one time and didn't like to be handled roughly
or have people touch her tail.
Picky was definitely a people cat though and she waited by the door to
greet each person as they came up with a friendly meow and would settle
into their lap the minute they sat down. Everyone in the neighborhood
knew her because she would talk to them as they came up to the door or
walked down the sidewalk. She loved being outside and dreaded the days
of winter and would go out on the porch during a thaw and stare at the
snow with a disgusted look on her face, mad at nature for spoiling her
fun. She knew my car and as I pulled up she would run up and let me set
her on my shoulder and we would go into the house like that till we got
to the couch and then she would hop off. Years went by and though she
had some physical changes her likes and dislikes never changed. Her
favorite foods were Whiskas in the morning and whatever I was eating at
supper . I would get her a saucer and put some of my meal on it for her.
At nighttime she liked to have a little ice cream, the soupy part was
fine with her. Then at bedtime the minute the lights were out she was
there for a little affection before she left to guard the house from
stray dogs , chipmunks, and bad cats.
I estimate her age as having been around 16-17 years old and the last
year was hard on her she had lost her hearing and was losing weight and
finally during the last week she was unsteady on her feet and stopped
eating. Buffy took her out to the vet Wed and their diagnosis was kidney
failure and congestive heart failure from old age. I asked them to do
some blood work but she passed away Wed night at the animal hospital. I
felt bad that she had not died at home with us but I had to take a
chance that they could do something. I picked her up and with a prayer
of thanks for the many years she had spent with us I buried her beside
the porch where she had greeted so many over the years.
Enjoy the chips... buff
A 50-something year old Muslim man arrived at his seat on a crowded flight
and immediately didn't want the seat. The seat was next to an elderly white
woman reading her Bible.
Disgusted, the Muslim man immediately summoned the flight attendant and
demanded a new seat. The man said "I cannot sit here next to this infidel."
The flight attendant said "Let me see if I can find another seat."
After checking, the flight attendant returned and stated "There are no
more seats in economy, but I will check with the captain and see if there
is something in first class."
About 10 minutes went by and the flight attendant returned and stated "The
captain has confirmed that there are no more seats in economy, but there is
one in first class. It is our company policy to never move a person from
economy to first class, but, being that it would be some sort of scandal to
force a person to sit next to an UNPLEASANT person, the captain agreed to
make the switch to first class."
Before the irate Muslim man could say anything, the attendant gestured to
the elderly woman and said, "Therefore, maam, if you would so kindly
retrieve your personal items, we would like to move you to the comfort of
first class as the captain doesn't want you to sit next to an unpleasant
Passengers in the seats nearby began to applaud while some gave a standing
Be Careful, Your Sins May Find You Out.
Have you ever told a white lie? Then you are
going to love this. For all ladies who bake for
church events . . .
Alice was to bake a cake for the church ladies'
group bake sale, but she forgot to do it until the
last minute. She baked an angel food cake and
when she took it from the oven, the center had
She said, "Oh dear, there's no time to bake another
cake." So, she looked around the house for
something to build up the center of the cake. Alice found
it in the bathroom, a small roll of toilet paper. She
plunked it into the middle of the cake and then
covered it with icing.
The finished product looked beautiful, so she
rushed it to the church. Alice then gave her daughter
some money and instructions to be at the
sale the minute it opened and to buy that cake and
bring it home. When the daughter arrived at the sale,
the attractive cake had already been sold.
Alice was beside herself. A couple of days later,
Alice was invited to a friend's home where two tables
of bridge were to be played that afternoon. After the
game, a fancy lunch was served, and to top it off,
the cake in question was presented for dessert.
Alice saw the cake, she started to get out of her chair
to rush into the kitchen to tell her hostess all about it,
but before she could get to her feet, one of the other
ladies said, "What a beautiful cake!"
Alice sat back in her chair when she heard the hostess
(a prominent church member) say:
"Why thank you; I baked it myself."
Once upon a time in Colorado, the chief of an Indian tribe, the
Navajo's, had a very beautiful daughter. She was of marrying age and
many braves were wanting the daughter's hand in marriage.
Being a wise chief, he decided that he wanted his daughter to marry the
bravest and strongest and wisest brave of the bunch. So he held a
contest. All the eliigible bachelors were to go hunting. The brave that
brought back the biggest and best 'catch' would be given the chief's
daughter in marriage.
Alot of braves turned out for this event. On Monday morning they all set
out, bows and arrows in hand. Tuesday afternoon comes and all the braves
had returned with their killings--except for three: Running Bear,
Sitting Bull, and Falling Rock.
On Wednesday morning, Running Bear finally returns; bringing in a really
big black bear, weighing 480 ponds and is 7 feet in length. Obviously,
the chief was quite impressed. This was the best killing of all....so
far. But, of course, they had to wait for the remaining two before he
could award his daughter to Running Bear.
On Wednesday night, under a full moon, Sitting Bull returns to the camp
and brings back a really big cougar: it's even bigger than the black
bear Running Bear came home with! The cougar weighed 620 pounds and was
7-1/2 feet long. Clearly, Sitting Bull was about to win the chief's
daughter in marriage.
Excitement rose within the camp. Everyone was pretty sure that Falling
Rock would not be able to top Sitting Bull's catch.
Thursday comes and goes. Friday came and went.....Saturday came and
went......The weeks turn into months, and soon, the months into years,
and still....Falling Rock did not return.
It was soon getting obvious, the aging chief could not wait forever for
Falling Rock to return. So he granted his daughter to Sitting Bull.
There was much celebrating, after which the pair lived happily ever
The tribe no longer waited for the wayward brave, but they did keep
their eyes open whenever they rode the trails---just in case.
And today? Well, you will still see in Colorado those signs that say...
"Watch for Falling Rock".
A Southern Baptist preacher was preparing to have a Lord's Supper at his
church and, in preparing, he came to the realization that Jesus used
wine, not un-fermented grape juice, at the Last Supper. Since Jesus
used wine, he felt that he should as well. During the sermon he
explained that the church would be using wine for the Lord's Supper and
why. The reaction from most people was neutral or positive, but there
was one lady - a widow who had donated the land the church was built on.
The pastor watched her during the Lord's Supper and noticed that she did
not drink the wine, so he made a pastoral visit to her that after noon.
"Preacher," the widow said, "Alcohol has never passed my lips in 76
years and it isn't going to start now."
The pastor replied: "But you do realize, that Jesus drank wine, don't
"Yes." she said in a bit of a huff. "And I lost a lot of respect for
him when I learned that he drank wine."
Please forgive our lack of a fancy template at the moment and
enjoy these pages from our friends.
Preparing To Meet The Dog
Koala's In A Heatwave!
Ricochet The Surf Dog!
Cute PDF Writer
Congratulating a friend after her son and daughter got married within a
month of each other, a woman asked, "What kind of boy did your daughter
"Oh, he's wonderful," gushed the mother. "He lets her sleep late, wants
her to go to the beauty parlor regularly, and insists on taking her out
to dinner every night."
"That's nice," said the woman. "What about your son?"
"I'm not so happy about that," the mother sighed. "His wife sleeps late,
spends all her time in the beauty parlor, and makes them eat take-out
Standing on the tee of a relatively long par three, a confident golfer
said to his caddy, "Looks like a four-wood and a putt to me."
The caddy suggested that he instead play it safe and hit a 4-iron, then
a wedge, THEN a putt.
The golfer was insulted and proceeded to scream and yell at the caddy
telling him that he was a better golfer than that and how dare he
underestimate his game!
Giving in the caddy handed the gentleman the four-wood he had asked for.
He then proceeded to top the ball and watched as it rolled about fifteen
yards off the front of the tee.
Immediately the caddy handed him his putter and said, "And now for one
heck of a putt..."
"John, I can see that all your buttons are sewed on perfectly. You must
"That's right. Sewing on buttons was the first thing my wife taught me
on our honeymoon."
Worried that his son was spending too much money on dates,
a Father asked the boy how much his last date had cost.
The son calculated a minute then replied, "Oh, about $15
or so I think."
"Well," said the Father, "I'm proud of you for finally
coming up with an inexpensive evening."
"To be honest Dad," the son went on, "we'd have done more,
but that was all the money she had."
Tom was a single guy living at home with his father and working in the
family business. When he found out he was going to inherit a fortune once
his sickly father died, he decided he needed a wife with which to share his
One evening at an investment meeting, he spotted the most beautiful woman he
had ever seen. Her natural beauty took his breath away.
"I may look like just an ordinary man," he said to her, "but in just a few
years, my father will die, and I'll inherit 20 million dollars."
Impressed, the woman obtained his business card.
Three days later, she became his stepmother.
Women are so much better at estate planning than men.
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